


Assassin's Light

by chrisemrys



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, D.Gray-man
Genre: Abbas and others will cause Trouble TM, Allen is that boy you want to protect, Altaïr and Malik are not immune, Altaïr/Allen is coming slowly but surely, Apple Shenanigans, Ark shenanigans, Blame or maybe thank those two for allowing this crossover, Fear not OC ducklings takes a shine to Allen, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love canon being enough to explain crossovers, M/M, Malik&Allen will be brotherly, Tags to be added as story progress/as needed!, Without even me having expected it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisemrys/pseuds/chrisemrys
Summary: Two worlds which would have been fated to never meet; except... Allen Walker is cornered, scared, desperate; Nea interfers, but he gave no direction to the Ark bareTake him away from hereand Allen floats in the void between spaces. The Apple cannot resist the call of giving knowledge, a location; and Allen lands in Altaïr's room.No one could guess the impact this meeting would have on both lives, and on both worlds.





	1. Prologue

Hello!

Welcome to my crossover for Assassin's Creed and D Gray man~ This started as self indulgence to have Altaïr and Allen meet, and then I just fell in love with it.

A few things to know: Allen has a canon au backstory and the main fact to know is that he's 19; I have my own headcanons for Nea (and for Crown Clown) which will show; this is set in Altaïr's era, not long after Al Mualim's death, and it remains possible characters of later eras might appear, but not a certainty; these is a very high chance this will be Altaïr/Allen (it might remain implicit, or it might be clearly stated and shown); this story is meant to give enough to be read whether you know only one fandom or both (but doesn't explain everything right away); I have a few plot twist and events more or less planned.

For the most part, I do simply follow where this goes, each chapter has helped me figure out the one(s) that follow, and planted those ideas for plot and event I mentionned. I have some ideas of where this is going (it is likely the crossing over will eventually be both way), but I'm not rushing toward it either; and so this might also be kind of slice of life. Kind of.

Also, very important: I have chapters in advance (12 after this prologue) and I will be posting once a week (every wednesday). I might “pause” posting, if I want to give myself room to breathe, so keep an eye on my ANs for any mention of me pausing (and well generally, do keep an eye on ANs as I'll put warning and stuff like that).

Enjoy~!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Prologue _

Three months, so many days spent moving, always a step ahead but sometimes barely.

Three months on the run, hiding and avoiding all those that knew him, for many reassons.

Three months he had managed to remain out of Apocryphos' grasp.

And right here and now, he failed. He did not manage to get away in time.

Allen barely had time to process the sudden spike of worry and anger from Crown Clown's before a hand grabbed his neck, pressing him into the wall, his left arm sprouting even more feathers as he met the wild gaze of the independent Innocence.

“Finally. You have been a bad boy, Allen.” Apocryphos purred, one hand still around his neck, ignoring the right hand that tried to pull it off. “But have no fear, I will soon rid you of this Noah that taints you.”

And fear he felt, when the sensation he never wanted to feel again started, when he felt the invasion of Apocryphos' mind in his own, when he sensed Crown's agitation as the guardian of the Heart forced his Innocence to accept the fusion.

He was powerless, no match for Innocence, not when his own could not disobey.

He found himself hoping for Tyki and Road to show again, for the Noahs to know again that he was in danger. Who else but them could match Apocryphos?

Rage suddenly flared into his mind, covering the fear, the pain, even Apocryphos faltered at it.

“ **How dare you**!”

A deep voice snarled, but not Allen, and yet he felt himself speak, just like he saw the purple energy that sparked all around his right arm. But Allen could sense it, how the Noah within him could not keep it up.

It was a split second decision. A split second of Apocryphos' surprise. A split second of control.

Nea smacked Apocryphos' hands off, and then, even as those hands reached for the body again, Nea sent all his remaining energy into a single command for the Ark, Crown Clown's own powers flowing from its own desire to protect their precious host.

_**Take Allen away from here!** _

Bright light flashed behind Allen, Apocryphos' eyes widened in despaired anger, fingers brushed clothes, but too late.

Allen fell into the Ark's gate, the whiteness shattering around already, breaking fully when all of him went through it.

And he fell still, into whiteness, as if he was floating down, a feeling like exhaustion creeping into his body and mind.

The Ark had no direction, no landing point.

Allen had barely any consciousness, mind still reeling from the attempted fusion.

Nea was falling dormant.

Crown Clown flared once last time, pleading, into the nothingness of the void between space, for somewhere to land.

* * *

 

Space, dimensions, worlds; a theory that the Isu knew about. Their calculations, their knowledge, however, never found a proof, or at least, only of the possible futures of their own world; but the theory had remained.

And the Apple, full of knowledge, was ready to offer it to those that sought it, lure them to it.

A pulse awakened the Apple, the golden sphere starting to lit up, but without witness.

_Let me give you a location. Let me give you all you need._

_Let me guide you. Let me keep you._

The Apple reached out, the light even brighter.

And then the Apple recoiled, growing dim again.

It had been rejected, violently.

“ _My master is not yours to command_ _!”_

Yet, it felt the knowledge had been taken.

* * *

 

It had been enough, no matter the intent, no matter if the last strength of Crown Clown was spent rejecting the intrusion.

The Ark had a location.

And Crown Clown grew dormant itself, energy drained to open the gate once more.

Light flashed again the room, but not from the Apple this time.

A white, diamond-like shape rose from the floor, a body falling from it, landing while the whiteness shattered and vanished.

The young man caught himself on a desk, clinging to consciousness by a small thread, silver eyes dazed, feathers slowly drifting back into his left arm until it was back its normal inactive state. A golden orb on the desk, and one fluttering in front of his face, his mind processed the flying one must be Timcanpy, the worried noises confirming it.

Allen offered a weak smile, and then, darkness claimed him, his last feeling being the golem returning into his pocket.

* * *

 

All Altaïr had wanted was to rest, to lay down and relax after another day spent discussing with Malik the changes he wanted to bring. He had yet to regain the trust of all assassins, but his unwillingness to punish them, especially Abbas, had earned him back some of those that rebelled already.

Abbas was another matter, unwilling it seemed to let go of his suspicions, of his hate. At least, while Malik would never lose the sharp comments, Altaïr knew their bond was healing. Malik could see him as the man he was becoming, while still ready to call him out, but never in blind hate. And the new Mentor knew he needed that, not that he would easily admit it.

But still, it had been a long day, and Altaïr wanted his rest. For once, he did not even feel like sitting by the Apple, questionning whether or not to use it. The knowledge he knew he could gain still tempted him, but the memory of Al Mualim were still too fresh. He could not risk it, not when he was only starting to rebuild the Order.

So really, the last thing he needed was an intruder in his own room.

Yet, Altaïr could not miss the sound that came from inside just as he reached for the door, a thump on the ground.

The assassin threw his door open, moving inside with his hidden blade ready in quick steps.

He stopped short when his amber eyes landed on the form on the floor in front of his desk, half covered by the strange, beige coat they wore. Altaïr frowned, careful as he approached, gaze flickering to the Apple.

It had not been moved at all. Had it reacted before, or had they collapsed before they could touch it?

Altaïr knelt beside the form, taking into the white hairs, like snow, then he grabbed their shoulder, pushing to roll on the side. He had half expected the youthful face, the body had not been one of an old man, however, what caught his attention was the red… brand? Tattoo? On his face. All red, it started above his left eye as a pentragram, then a line down his eye and his cheek, another line crossing it as the cheek.

The young man, who Altaïr estimated to be in his late teens, at most twenty, also had a too pale skin, the traces of exhaustion in his traits, and the assassin felt the shivers under his hand. Even passed out, the younger's face twitched, forming a pained expression, betraying whatever had caused him to faint was still affecting him.

His clothes were also strange, Altaïr could see now a white tunic and a black vest, a red ribbon around his neck, as well as dark pants and brown boots, hands covered by white gloves. It did not quite look like attires worn in the Holy Land, but Altaïr wasn't sure he had seen foreigners wear anything like this either.

He shifted his hand, checking the pulse, which at least seemed to be steady, if a bit weaker. A second look over the male's body confirmed he could not see blood. Still, he rolled the stranger on his back, checking for hidden blades but finding none. Neither did he find any physical injury, which left Altaïr thinking exhaustion seemed to be the likely cause.

A touch of the forehead confirmed what he felt when he checked the pulse, the young man had a small fever.

Altaïr sighed, rubbing his temple. He just wanted to rest, this was too confusing. Besides, he would not be able to get answers for now, would he?

So he picked up the young man, one arm at his shoulders and the other under his knees, carrying him to his bed. Malik would probably have complaints tomorrow, but Altaïr did not feel like taking the time and energy to get the strange young man to a cell, to have to explain.

Not when he felt the smallest pang at the idea, and not when he could not help the way his eyes took into those exhausted, slightly pained traits again.

Altaïr had seen many bad men, many innocents, he had seen men with bad actions and good intents.

None ever felt this innocent to his eyes, more than all the people in towns, more than just someone to stray his blade from. None had ever truly brought him a sense of protectiveness.

Altaïr stared down as he deposited the young man in his bed, watching as the frame relaxed, the traits softened. Innocent, he looked so innocent, yet so… troubled. The assassin recalled about the fever, and moved to get a watered cloth, feeling his lips twitch at the corner as a small sigh left the young man once it was deposited on his forehead.

Tomorrow, he would gain answers. Tonight, he would let the young man rest, and do that himself.

He felt like sleeping in a pile of pillows tonight after all, right where he could see the night sky out of the window, and where he could also keep an eye on his bed, but not too close.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 1

Hello!

Fun story: I spent the first few days after posting the prologue very tempted to update early, but resisted the temptation; and then of course, today (or, well, yesterday for me) came and I forgot all about it. It's when I checked my mails and saw a follow that I went, oh, oops, update.

Thank you for all the follows! I didn't know how many might know both fandoms, or might come read even without knowing; but I'm pleasantly surprised Assassin's Light is getting interest!

And so, welcome to chapter 1 and with it, Altaïr and Allen are meeting for real, face to face; and as I affectionately nicknamed them, they are kind of firecrackers. I wouldn't say it's immediately romantic in nature, but there is a deep interest that comes (to Altaïr first, but fear not, Allen gets there soon enough).

This was also written in a style of first half is Allen's POV and second half is Altaïr's POV of the same scene, which I loved and it felt fitting for this meeting; but it won't quite appear after, although I do have small POV changes (but not often the same scene).

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 1 _

Consciousness returned at a slow pace to Allen. First, it felt as if he grew to take notice of the darkness, then, of the flickers from the Fourteenth at the edge of his mind, dark yet not quite active. Something felt sore in his mind, shaken, but the gentlest, lightest touch of warmth soothed him. He could sense Crown Clown had been drained, needed its rest, but it was there, if… sleepy, he wanted to say.

Then he started to feel the ache of his body, yet, he felt as if he had gained some rest. He finally took notice of the cloth on his forehead, the mattress under him, and then it hit him, the memory of landing in a room.

In the next moment, his instincts sparked, the sense of a gaze on him, but Allen forced his heart to keep a calm pace, forced himself to keep control of his breathing. He felt Timcanpy, still hidden in his shirt, lightly pat his chest to show his presence, the golem all too famliar with his master, knowing he was awake now.

The gesture was also calm, meaning Allen wasn't in immediate danger. So, he opened his eyes, blinking at the ceiling, estimating the faint light meant it was dawn, before the sensation of being watched became too strong, and Allen shifted, turning lightly on his side, letting the cloth fall on the pillow under him as he raised himself, silver eyes locating the other person in the room.

His breath caught when amber eyes that seemed to shimmer with gold met his gaze. His mind had started to quickly take notice of the surroundings, of the dark haired man's simple breeches and tunic, the pillows around him. Yet, at the sight, his thoughts froze, body tensing, left hand twitching.

It was the man's turn to inhale sharply, a visible flinch backward given, the shimmer gone from the man's now widened eyes. Allen's cursed eye, able to see better in darkness than his normal one, allowed him to see that while deeply surprised, the man also seemed… awed?

Then the man, who Allen guessed was in his mid twenties, smoothed his expression, careful in his neutrality, standing up. Amber eyes now fixed him in a piercing, analyzing look, it made Allen swallow and shiver; silver eyes narrowing in wariness as the man walked closer.

“ _Who are you?_ ” The man spoke with a question in his tone, stopping beside the bed, standing tall over Allen.

A question in arabic, of that Allen could recognize. Except… that was not quite a language he had time to learn. So the young man's expression turned sheepish, nipping his lips, yet letting his gaze meet the man's, allowing him to see the slight confusion and visible apology.

“I do not speak arabic, sorry.” He replied, half in hope that the man knew English.

But the man frowned, mouth thinning.

Allen wondered if he should try speaking in some of the other languages he was familiar enough with, all the while cursing the language barrier. Now was not the time to add that issue, not when the man obviously wanted answers.

Unknown to Allen, Altaïr held similar thoughts.

Unknown to them both, one would have been enough, so the two of them combined…

The Apple, forgotten on Altaïr's desk, glowed.

* * *

 

At first, Altaïr was not sure what had woken him. The light of dawn was the faintest, and for a moment he almost believed his body simply knew a new day was coming. Then he heard the sounds of someone stirring, and suddenly he recalled that he had not been alone.

How could he have forgotten about this strange guest of his?

His gaze went to the young man, who had not moved through the night, and it made a small spark of relief flicker in Altaïr's heart that the other was finally stirring. It made him frown, how he still felt this sense of protectiveness. The issue was not quite the feeling in itself, for he was learning to allow himself to care for his fellow Brothers. But here came the true issue: he did not know this young man.

Caring for the people, that was not an issue either. But this went beyond, as if when he looked at the white haired male, a part of him viewed… _something_.

Enough of a something that Altaïr had fallen asleep without trouble.

So he caught himself staring at the stirring form, as if he could see what made this one different. And then it occurred to him: why not use his infamous Eagle vision?

No sooner than the thought crossed his mind, Altaïr felt and saw his worldview change. At the back of his mind, he noted that despite a very good ability to pretend, the young man had awakened, his heart having picked speed before being calmer, chest having betrayed for a very short moment the breathing before it was forced slower.

Did he realize he was not alone, or was he first trying to figure out his surroundings?

Whatever the case was, Altaïr only paid minimal attention, storing this for later. No, what had his focus was how the white haired looked with his gift. At first, the Master Assassin had thought it was white, but it had brothered him, since this was not the white of safe spots, nor the grey of innocents. Then, for lack of better word, the aura flickered, almost attentive, telling Altaïr that the young man had indeed realized he wasn't alone.

But more importantly, it made Altaïr realize it was not white. It was the lighest shade of blue, tinted in silver. The silver screamed of uniqueness, giving the assassin a certainty it was the young man's own aura; while the blue…

Light as it was, it meant this young man's intents in general were pure enough to be perceived as good, even when they had yet to interact.

Then the young man allowed himself to show he was awake, unaware of how the simple act made his aura grow brighter, as if now that his intent to pretend had left, Altaïr was allowed to perceive more of his intents.

At first, it shifted, growing more into this silvery white, light blue still tinting it. Then their eyes met, and it all happened almost too fast.

The aura flared, bright and close to blinding, yet with a sense of fear. The color shifted to red for a split second, then it went completely gold, a bright golden aura that shifted, enclosing around the young man's body, over his head, silver sparking in the middle of the gold like a mask-

Then it was gone, the aura silvery white again, the blue fainter but present, and then Altaïr found himself dropping the vision. It took him a few seconds of staring, wide eyed, to process all that happened.

The young man had gotten afraid, in a way that left a taste of recognition, as if Altaïr had been perceived as someone else. Then, Altaïr knew, oh he knew, he had felt it in the air, that if he had been what the young man thought he was, the sudden flare would have been followed by an attack.

But it was not Altaïr himself the young man had feared, and upon realizing it, all trace of hostility had left. Still, it had been enough to force the Eagle vision off, having given too much for Altaïr to process.

What had the shape been? This pressure in the air?

It left Altaïr feel… _curious_. Almost enthralled, his heart beating harder with his need to know.

And it scared him, this effect the young man could have on him. Frightened him… but not in a bad way.

Altaïr smoothed his expression, finally moving, the Mentor and Master Assassin in him taking pleasure and approval in the way the white haired male watched him. A cautious one, but clever enough to not act with haste, someone who knew how to fake sleep and take the time to analyze.

More than anything, while wary, there was no fear or hostility in the young man's gaze. The Eagle vision was not needed to know the intents had not changed. After all, now that he had activated it, he had realized the unique aura of intents had been what had captured his attention from the start.

Such a bold little one, to stare up right back at Altaïr. _Tell me who you are, young one._ “Who are you?”

The younger's expression shifted, telling Altaïr all he needed to know. Then again, with traits like his, this was not unexpected.

“ _I do not speak arabic, sorry._ ”

Oh. His voice, not too deep, was soft and quiet, apologetic too, Altaïr could almost guess what he said. The language, however… it almost sounded english, but not quite.

It frustrated Altaïr to realize they would not be able to communicate with ease. He wanted a name, he wanted to know how this little fledgling had arrived in his room, if he had even known whose room he would be in, he wanted to know why he had been so exhausted.

He wanted to know who had taught the white haired such fear from the simple sight of Altaïr, mistaken as them.

He needed them both to be able to communicate with ease.

He should have known better.

Altaïr still was shocked when the sudden glow overtook the room.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 2

Hello!

It is Wednesday for me, and well I was late last week, so have a rather early update~

I hinted at what the Apple had reacted to last chapter, and I wanted to just add: Allen doesn't know much Arabic but Altaïr would know some English and/or French; however, the difference in era for them both would have made it near impossible to understand each other. It might have been obvious, but I wanted to make sure it's clear!

This chapter also marks the start of longer ones, my average tend to be around 2000 words per chapter, and here it is still the case, but you will see soon: chapters will have more words!

Finally, Allen and Altaïr can exchange words; and I rather like how it comes out~ Altaïr is very good at getting what he wants, here it means having some answers, while Allen is very good at giving them but also not give the full truth. And very good at being this genuine boy that just screams innocent.

On a last note, compared to previous chapters, I am shifting back into my usual writing style, a bit more of small POV shifts rather than the same scene in different POVs. It suits better the overall story, although, the way I wrote the previous chapter can show again.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 2 _

The sudden glow in the room brought out surprised sounds from both males, Altaïr turning in the Apple's direction while the young man lifted one arm to shield his face. Then he moved to stand, too fast, and Altaïr caught him when the young man stumbled, almost dropping forward.

The glow stopped, gone as fast as it came, leaving Allen blinking up at amber eyes, hands at his shoulders having given him support, not yet letting go as the man's gaze seemed intent, quite likely making sure Allen was steady on his feet. Allen felt how the left hand missed a finger.

He felt how gentle in its firmness the grip was.

“Thank you,” Allen said, lips forming a smile.

The man nodded, then seemed to freeze. “You-You speak Arabic now.”

A statement, not a question. With how the Apple had glowed, Altaïr had already drawn a conclusion. He watched as the young man frowned in confusion, murmuring a soft, “What-?” and for a second he looked so lost that Altaïr added, “It must have been the Apple's work.”

Allen grew even more confused, then his gaze flickered to the golden orb on the desk of the room, aware the glow had came from it. “This?”

The confusion still present felt too genuine, telling Altaïr that the white haired male did not know what the Apple was. He nodded again as those silver eyes returned on him, noticing the slight unease of his expression. So the Apple must be trying to lure him, give him more knowledge.

“Don't question it too much.” Altaïr offered, taking note of how the young man seemed willing to drop the subject.

Then both of them realized they had not moved, and Altaïr took a step back, blinking, allowing his hands to drop. The young man did not falter, however, hesitation started to show.

“What did you ask me, earlier?” Allen questioned softly, even if he had a vague idea. He didn't quite want to remind the man of the possible interrogation he meant to give, but Allen did not feel in danger. And he wanted to drive his mind away from the faint pull, the smallest calling this so-called Apple tried to give.

Allen understood it alright, the promises of knowledge. Except he already had to deal with one invasion of his mind, so he would do without another.

The man was definitely dangerous of course, the way he moved and looked at him, his voice, it all reminded Allen of a mix between Cross and Tiedoll, between his demon of a master and the gentle but strong General. Maybe with a bit of Tyki in it, the way this man could edge on predatory, while still remain on a calmer side. But even with all that, Allen knew somewhere deep within, that right now, the man had no ill intents.

And offering a sense of openness would help preserve this. Honesty too, but Allen could not be fully honest, could he? However… His best defence had always been truths while playing with words.

Altaïr blinked at the question that had been given, reminding himself he still had to get answers out of the other, no matter if the white haired had yet to give a reason to be seen as a potential enemy. Other than somehow getting in his room, of course; but Altaïr marked this as suspicious in his head. Certainly, the young man was an oddity.

To call him a danger, though, someone to restrain… No, it did not feel right.

“Who are you?” Altaïr asked again, crossing his arms. “And I am not just asking for a name.”

Allen breathed out a sigh, allowing a resigned little smile to show. “My name is Allen Walker, sir. I'm a travelling performer, and I don't know how I ended here.”

Altaïr narrowed his eyes. He detected no lies, however… “You do not behave like a performer. The way you pretended to still be asleep, the way you watched me and positioned yourself, you have been trained.” Oh, he caught that little flinch.

“I am a performer,” Allen repeated, then when the man's gaze flashed with danger, warning, he added, softer and more resigned, almost sad, “I took to it recently.”

Altaïr hummed in approval. He said nothing more, keeping his stare on Allen, a foreign name was it? And it sounded English. He waited for the way the younger nipped at his lip, close to squirming under the intense gaze, then finally Altaïr spoke again, “So you were travelling, and somehow ended here? Where were you? Did you notice anything?”

Damnit, Allen thought. The man was not letting him wiggle replies in. Those questions demanded details that he knew would either affirm or dispute his claims. In that moment, Allen realized the man was a pro at cons too, and more than likely, realized Allen was not being as open as he looked.

Indeed, Altaïr noticed right away the young man was giving only what was necessary, but he was too cautious for a simple traveller. And more importantly, he lacked the fear of someone in a sudden, strange situation.

If nothing else, this told Altaïr that Allen was either used to strange situations, or used to handle tricky situations. And with skills, too.

Too bad Altaïr wasn't a Master Assassin for nothing.

“I was in a smaller town in Spain.” Allen admitted, this was not the tricky part. However, his mind had started to convert the actual truth in a story that was true enough. “A strange man attacked, and before I knew it, I fell in a glowing door of some kind, and ended here. I fainted in the next moment.”

Altaïr watched Allen's face. He allowed his gift to come, knowing the exact moment it became visible from the flinch and sharpened gaze, although the slight curiousness made the corner of his lips twitch.

Allen still glowed in a light shade of blue. In fact, while still silver at the basis, the blue tint had grown a bit. And then gold seemed to swirl in the aura.

He allowed his sight to return to normal, nodding and uncrossing his arms. It made Allen unconsciously loosen tenseness.

“You have your secrets, and I will respect that.” This time he allowed the faint sly smile as Allen winced. “But your intent and words are genuine. I believe you, that you are here by accident. You are innocent in this, and as such, you will not be harmed.”

Allen breathed out in relief, his traits softer as a true, grateful smile formed. “Thank you, sir. I am truly sorry I, ah, intruded.”

Altaïr felt the smile stay on his lips for a few more moments, amused, before he let it drop. There was so much he still wanted to ask, in truth. The strange man was a concern, did he posses another Apple? Something similar? And then, to himself, the assassin admitted it was simply Allen that he felt curious about.

The Vision painted him with gold shades, with interest, something to gain or learn.

“You will have to tell me more, however, about this man. If his actions brought you here, he might be someone I need to find.” Altaïr inclined his head. “And so I might need some knowledge of Spain. It is rather far, after all.”

Now that would be problematic, Allen mused. He could always claim he didn't see much, but if he gave the location, not only would it bring the man to danger if Apocryphos realized, it could bring the Independent Innocence to Allen.

Then something occurred to Allen. “If I may ask… Where did I arrive, exactly?”

“You are in the west of Syria, the town of Masyaf.” Altaïr replied, keeping an eye on Allen's reaction. But there was no recognition, no sign of the young man associating the name with the Brotherhood.

All Allen did was blink, then he let out a sigh. “I see. I'm not familiar with Syria, or most of these part of the world. I will need a map to find my way back to Europe.” He mused, more so to himself than a real request. “Or just to decide where I will go next.” He shrugged, smiling. “I am a travelling performer, after all.”

“I have maps.” Altaïr offered, then, hearing the sounds of the fortress awakening more and more, he moved to get his robes. “I'm afraid I do need to speak of your arrival with those that live here, however.” He paused, noting how Allen did not seem to recognize the white robes, confirming the earlier assumption the younger man had not enough knowledge of the Brotherhood, if at all. He also pretended he didn't feel the slight pride as he noticed the interest that bordered on impressed as Altaïr got into his robes. “You will be faced with suspicion. And I still want to know more about this man you spoke of.”

Allen nodded, however he was frowning then, glancing at the final look of the robes on the man, the hood that was pulled over the man's head, then spotting weapons, head tilting as he listened to the sounds. “I feel like I did not just land in your room, did I?”

Altaïr snorted, but the look he levelled was serious, and rather intimidating now that it was from under that hood. “You are lucky I believe you, and that my words will be listened.” He paused, huffing in frustration. “For the most part.” He shook his head, feeling a slight pang at the show of wariness and nervousness from the young one. “But they would not dare harm you as long as you are not proven of guilt. We do not spill the blood of innocents.”

Allen felt there was a meaning there, the way the man spoke. However, it remained to be seen, what exactly it meant to be seen as an innocent, what it meant for him to so easily speak of spilled blood. But… Allen believed it, when the man spoke of security.

“I am guessing the less I ask, the better it is?” He smiled lightly. “I just want to figure my way off, and I'd rather stay out of troubles. I won't bother you, and the… others.” Whoever those others were.

Of course, Allen did feel curious, but he knew better than to push. Still, part of him felt a little… sad. Human contacts had been small in the past three months, confined to those he needed to speak too for beddings or food, sometimes to those that watched his performances. And he had not felt safe for just as long, constantly on the lookout, watching his every move to avoid detection.

He should feel wary about the sense of something more in the man, of knowing he had landed somewhere that meant something. Yet… His heart held no fear, his mind calmer than it had been the past few weeks, his instincts calm.

He would be safe here. And it pained him to have to leave. Allen could only enjoy the small respite while it lasted.

Altaïr had watched from the corner of his eyes, securing his weapons. Did Allen know, that no matter how well he seemed to be able to mask himself, his eyes betrayed him when you knew how to look?

The younger man did not want to leave. Against all odds, in this strange situation, Allen looked to be soothed. And Altaïr suddenly doubted a few things. Namely, that Allen did not know the man he spoke of.

Because Allen seemed almost better now that he knew how far he was from where he had been.

“The informations that would harm us is not one we would lay in front of you easily.” Altaïr replied simply, motioning with his hand as he walked for Allen to follow. The young man complied, with the lightest hint of anticipation, slightly nervous, or maybe shy. “I am the Mentor here, but if I act without consulting, it will only make my Brothers angered.”

“Mentor? You have students?” Allen questioned, curious, and stopped when the man paused at the door to his room.

“In a sense, yes, but I am also their leader.” Altaïr tilted his head, gazing at Allen from under his hood. It sent a small shiver down Allen's spine. “You can address me as Master Altaïr, as most of them do.” He paused, not quite blind to the faintest frown, the faintest show of uncomfortableness. “Or simply Altaïr.”

“Sir Altaïr?” Allen offered with a little smile as Altaïr opened the door.

Altaïr licked his lips, there was the faintest trace of accent in Allen's tone, hinting that while he was given the knowledge of Arabic, it was simply as if he had learned it-in a very short amount of time. He liked the way it sounded.

Then a loud growling sound erupted, the Mentor almost jumped but instead tensed, gaze snapping to Allen. The young man flushed red in the face, scratching the back of his neck.

Altaïr felt himself form a grin, slow and sly. “And you, Allen Walker, needs food.”

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 3

Hello!

Malik finally enters the scene, finally gets weak to Allen's charms too, and both Malik and Altaïr discover a bit of Allen's appetite. Also: Altaïr get a few truth out of Allen; and Malik is our dear witness to those two being pulled toward each other. Malik also scold Altaïr a bit.

All in all, this chapter start to really get us into the story, as Altaïr and Malik gets to know a little more. And we get to see how the characters interact.

I would make Altaïr and Malik a bit more troubled to believe, or troubled to understand (or both); but I feel that between their experience with mind control, the Apple; and Allen's way of sharing things, it's enough to not create confusion.

Note: I have posted a story on AO3 called Dear Guide Man, which is in fact a collection of informations about how I write Allen and for DGM!

Hope you enjoy! And thank you for follows, kudos, faves, and comments~ I'm glad to see this is being appreciated!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 3 _

Gazes followed them from the various assassins that caught sight of them, greeting their Mentor with quick little glances at Allen, curious and suspicious both, some giving more of one or the other; but none questioned it, and all took Altaïr's casual stance beside Allen as reassurance it seemed.

It might also be that Allen would instinctively move closer to the Mentor, not quite noticing the look Altaïr sent.

The man had asked a novice to tell Malik to join him in the library, and another to bring them breakfast, and soon they arrived, overlooking the entrance, Altaïr trying not to glance too long at Al Mualim's desk.

Instead, he went to the maps, or at least the one of the region. There had been few uses for other maps, but Malik would know where they were, which to use. And he was the best person Altaïr wanted to hear the opinion from, even if he knew what might be said.

Still, he was glad that Malik had chosen to stay, putting someone else in charge of the Bureau of Jerusalem for now, becoming for all intents and purposes his right hand man.

“Here, Allen.” Altaïr said, spreading the map of the region for the young man to see, sliding his gaze to the side as Allen came beside him. “Masyaf is here, this is Damascus, Acre, and Jerusalem,” He explained, pointing to each location.

However, he noticed a confused sort of look coming over Allen's features, his brows furrowed lightly. Then Malik's voice came from behind them.

“And who is this, novice?”

Oh, Malik was not amused. The nickname had stayed, less hostile and more of teasing, but this time, it was shadowed with an edge. Both Altaïr and Allen turned, the Mentor took a sudden pleasure as Allen's blink then hesitant smile, the way it made the young man look innocently charming, threw off Malik for a second, annoyance gone from his own surprised blink.

No doubt half of it was from the strange, red brand.

“My name is Allen Walker, sir.” Allen introduced himself, offering a little bow.

Altaïr frowned for a short moment, smoothing it soon. Allen had not bowed to him, then again, the situation had been tense. He also ignored Malik's look. “The Apple brought him to me, although something else seems to be involved.”

Allen was startled to hear Altaïr speak so freely, and so was Malik, though more so what was said. His sharp gaze returned on the young man, assessing, however, the man started to see why Altaïr did not arrest Allen.

The boy just looked… innocent. There was something about him, ease at the situation yet a carefulness in his gaze, the way he held himself, that betrayed this one was not a simple citizen. However, no matter if there was a guard that seemed instinctive, he was also painfully honest, his gaze almost trusting when he glanced at Altaïr, and almost hopeful when he looked at Malik.

If that one had ill intents toward them, Malik would need to retire. And so would Altaïr, now that would be something, barely a week and a half in his new position. But yes, as it was, Malik could not believe Allen meant them ill.

So he sighed, scowl back in place soon as he moved closer. “And it happened this morning?” Oh, oh no, that guilty shift of weight from one foot to the other… “ _Altaïr_.”

“He was there, passed out, when I went to my room to retire for the night. He rested through the night himself.”

Malik smacked his arm, while Allen looked, appearing confused, but both assassins noticed the hint of amusement. And, strangely, longing.

_They remind me o_ _f my friends_ _..._

“You idiot! You should have notified someone right away!”

Altaïr glared from under his hood, and no, the twitch of his lips had not be a pout he restrained. “I was tired, so were you, and he was out. It could wait morning.”

Malik pinched the bridge of his nose. At least, nothing bad had happened. When he dropped his hand, his eyes drifted to Allen, and he was doomed. That slight guilt in his look, the sheepishness, how was he supposed to stay mad with a face like that?

He would remember this, however. Especially the way Allen had taken a step forward, maybe still beside Altaïr, but one step to the side and he would be in between. Altaïr had noticed too, of course, glancing in slight surprise, and something softer, but only Malik could see the focus in those silver eyes, especially since they were directed at him.

He was ready to direct the blame to him. Malik's lips twitched at the corner. Yes, he could see why Altaïr offered some trust to Allen.

Then food arrived, the novice with it a bit nervous but almost pleased. Altaïr nodded with a word of thanks, the novice going away all puffed out. Malik shook his head, looking back at Altaïr who pretended not to notice, while Allen met the man's gaze with an amused one.

There was also something softer behind, almost approval. It made Malik curious, if he was honest, of how he would look, if he realized not all acted this way toward Altaïr.

“Eat, Allen.” Altaïr addressed the white haired, who seemed to hesitate. “With the way your stomach called for food, I'm guessing you weren't just exhausted.”

Cheeks reddened faintly, but silver eyes were brighter, and with a quiet thank you, he picked an apple.

Altaïr turned his attention to Malik, gesturing him to the map. “He's a travelling performer, he was in Spain when a strange man attacked, he fell into a glowing portal and arrived here.” He lifted his gaze back to Allen. And paused, expression twisting in what appeared to be confusion, but Malik recognized it as close to astonishment.

Malik glanced, and blinked. Allen had finished the apple, and another one. The young man noticed the two gazes, and he froze with the last bite of the second apple. He slowly finished his bite, clearing his throat. “I eat fast?”

Altaïr snorted while Malik lifted an eyebrow. Both, however, chose to grab an apple too, Altaïr pushing a piece of bread and dried meat toward Allen. He then directed his attention to the map again, continuing.

“I was showing him the region,” He lifted his gaze to Allen again, not really surprised to see the bread and meat gone, “Though you have not decided whether to go back to Europe or travel here, have you?”

Allen shook his head, though for some reason, his gaze dropped, a little frown showing.

Altaïr stared at him for a moment longer, then added for Malik, “I also asked him to give me more details about this man.” He paused, then, narrowing his eyes, “Allen?”

The young man lifted his gaze again after a beat, swallowing at the intensity of those amber eyes, the calculating look, sensing Malik's watchful look too. They had both noticed then, how Allen had grown uneasy, a weight growing in his stomach as more and more details pieced themselves together.

Allen had not thought much of the clothing, the weapons; he had wonder about the castle like place but forced himself to shrug it off. But the map… It added yet another detail, and Allen would not avoid anymore the suspicion that had risen.

“I… This might sound strange but...” The hesitation strengthened in his gaze, but he swallowed, a sense of knowing already in his expression even as he asked, “What year is it?”

Altaïr's mouth thinned, even as his eyes widened slightly. Malik inhaled sharply. Both of them understood with sudden clarity why he would ask.

“This is the year 1191.” Malik was the one to reply.

They watched as Allen's colour drained, eyes widening. He mouthed the year again, then let out a shaky breath, leaning against the desk, one hand on the surface while the other rubbed down his face.

“This is not your time.” Altaïr spoke, certain.

Allen let out a breath of laughter. “By about 700 years at least.”

The two assassins widened their eyes and shared a glance. If it had been even a few days ago, they might have not believe him. Even now, it felt hard to digest, yet… The reaction was too genuine, and they knew of the Apple now. It was a tool of control and illusion yes, but the map… had shown more existed.

So who knew what they would do?

“I-I know it sounds...” Allen trailed off, hands clenching into a fist.

When he looked up though, he stopped, vulnerable in his faint hope, noticing the two men were, yes, shocked, but lacking the disbelief.

Altaïr moved closer then, Allen straightened up when the man pushed his chin up with his knuckles, making him look up right into Altaïr's glimmering amber eyes. The sight still made his shiver, swallow, but it stopped making him feel as if he was seeing a Noah.

Altaïr's eyes were too unique to make him associate him with the Noahs longer.

“Look at me and tell me again what is the truth.”

Those eyes must be something, Allen thought, recalling the moments he had seen them. He wondered about it, but they demanded an answer, and Allen could not look away, could not refuse.

“I was in a little town in Spain, year 18xx, when a man attacked me, and-” His expression turned more hesitant, vulnerable. Amber eyes shimmering with gold narrowed, but there was something behind, not quite pleading, but almost. The rest rushed out of Allen in a breath. “And I escaped, but something went wrong, and I was brought here.”

Altaïr's expression flashed dangerously, having noted the little differences now in Allen's tale, the implicit admission Allen was the one who opened the portal. Then his finger shifter, thumb and index on his chin and cheek. His gaze softened a bit, if still piercing.

The silver and blue had switched, Altaïr would say if he had to describe. Allen was blue, still light compared to the usual shade, which he started to think was not in shade, but in essence. Good intents, almost pure. And the silver, it was now a tint of the blue. A blue tinted silver, with gold still flickering and swirling.

Allen had been more honest, unconsciously offering a tentative, positive bond. An alliance of goodwill.

“I believe you.” Altaïr replied, allowing his approval to show in his eyes even as he let go of the sight. He enjoyed the way Allen relaxed, strong gratefulness overcoming him. “I will not comprise my Brothers, so you will always reply to me honestly, is it understood? I need to know I am not making a mistake.”

Only Malik, silent and watchful, knew this meant so much more for Altaïr, remembered well enough what happened the last time Altaïr made a mistake, when Malik's missing arm and missing brother were proof.

“I promise, Altaïr.” Allen nodded, though the movement was minimal with the fingers still lightly grasping him. It should feel intimidating, and it was, but not in a way that frightened Allen. It was as if Altaïr demanded trust out of him, and Allen felt almost powerless to refuse. “I have no intent to harm you or those that live here.”

There was a pause then, Altaïr did not need to shift to his Eagle Vision to sense how the good intent had grown stronger still, yet there was something in Allen's gaze. He pressed closer, invading even more Allen's personal space, gaze narrowed and demanding, the desk pressing into the back of Allen's thighs.

Allen inhaled sharply, the little flare of warmth from his left arm reassuring as much as it worried him. Crown Clown reacted, but it felt sluggish, and it reminded him that the Fourteenth had been rather quiet, barely at the edge of his mind.

He finally acknowledged the way his body still felt off, missing energy.

He almost blamed this on his inability to resist, but he knew better. And he wanted… he wished for his instinctive trust in Altaïr to remain true.

“I have no ill intent. I, however, am at risk of losing control and becoming dangerous.”

Altaïr's expression shifted, almost struggling, dangerous, assessing, and… concerned. Was it the Apple? But it did not seem to be a new issue for Allen. How, though… How could this young fledgling with such good intent, who never appeared red except the one time he thought he was in the presence of someone else, could carry such a fate?

What was trying to rob him of his control?

Altaïr's hand shifted, he leaned back a bit, and his fingers caressed down Allen's white, soft, hairs in a thoughtful gesture. “I cannot allow harm to my Brothers, but I also cannot accept for someone to be robbed of freewill.”

Malik frowned, seeing what Altaïr did. An innocent in this situation that the creed told them not to harm, yet someone who could compromise the brotherhood that the creed demanded something was done. And yet, their creed, their Brotherhood, they fought for the freedom of will, of men to think and chose for themselves, learn to be wise. They could ignore that Allen's case was not of his own choice, if it came to be a danger.

“I suggest, then, that we help you figure your way back to your time, while giving us more details of what to expect if you were to lose control.” Malik spoke.

He did not know whether to feel amused or annoyed that the startle of Altaïr betrayed the Grandmaster of the Brotherhood had forgotten about his surroundings in his focus. Allen himself had also tensed, but it seemed to be from someone voice that wasn't Altaïr, and maybe, from the idea of sharing more.

_What am I going to do with those two_ , Malik complained, all too aware of Altaïr's interest in the mystery that was Allen, and of Allen being pulled by Altaïr's intensity.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 4

Hello~

Welcome to chapter 4; where both Allen and Altaïr learn a few more details about each other. And a few feels in the first few paragraph; you will see a little bit of how Allen has been feeling about certain things. It's also finally the time Allen get to know who Altaïr leads; and normally, I would agree that Allen has very strong feelings about killing.

But he is also very complex, and know nuances. He is obviously not feeling happy about it, but really, if he can feel positive toward the Noahs, toward people like Tyki and Road; it is not far fetched in my eyes that he wouldn't give a cold shoulder to Altaïr and Malik. As Allen says, he's growing to trust Altaïr, and in this, he trusts that Altaïr knows consequences and what he is doing. Besides, what Allen doesn't say is that he isn't sure it's his place to say anything. Not just because Altaïr currently the only one who stands between being treated well and being treated as a threat; but because this is not his world.

Personally, I believe Allen does not want to kill himself, and wished that no one would kill others. However, he knows too much of the world to think it has never been an option, and that it's all black and white.

Also: I struggled a bit with a talk mid to end of chapter, not saying more to not spoil; wondering a lot how Altaïr would speak, how others could react; and how Allen himself would speak. I didn't want easy acceptance, but I knew by this chapter how stubborn Altaïr has been about Allen's safety. I think it came out well; and I love most when Allen himself is talking. Hopefully, this will all feel good!

And to be honest, two of the plot's part are starting to show by now. I don't know yet what exactly I want to do with one part, but I am very certain at least that Allen's arrival happens at the perfect timing for Altaïr to shift his focus from the Apple to Allen himself. Not too soon; but still soon enough that he is wary. And then, there's a certain someone who is not too happy with Altaïr's decision; but for said someone, it also too soon after what he did to go against Altaïr again. One guess to who I am talking about.

Enjoy~

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 4 _

When Altaïr finally moved away, Allen appreciated the return of his personal space, yet, he also felt a certain loss. This had been the closest to interrogation Altaïr had done to him, and the man was very intimidating, hard to resist. He had known how to push Allen right.

It was also what had felt so… comforting. The man had demanded that Allen offer him the truth, offer him trust, not out of suspicion, but in his own offer of protection. Because Allen sensed it still, the way a feeling of security wrapped around him in the presence of the man.

The other man, Malik he recalled Altaïr name, felt a bit more cautious, yet whatever bond those two have, and whatever Malik saw, Allen could tell he had been given a chance. It warmed him to his core, that two strangers who had all the reasons to doubt him were willing to give him trust.

The bitter part of him finished the thought with the comparison he didn't want to acknowledge. Unlike most of the Black Order, disregarding all he had done before, deeming him a traitor and heretic the moment he so much as had a possible connecting to the Noahs, let alone when it was revealed he host the Fourteenth.

The familiar ache in his heart surfaced, and Allen forcefully directed his mind away, grabbing some more bread. He could not eat as much as he truly needed, Altaïr had no idea how much that really was and Allen wanted to keep it that way. He was already offering so much. But he did need a few more bites to at least calm his body enough.

Besides, it helped as he gathered the best words to explain his situation.

“In few words, a second mind is within me, trying to take over me, and if I fail to restrain him, he would take control.” He scowled, clenching both hands. “I am not sure what to expect of him, but I would rather not find out.” His hands loosened, and he sighed. “I don't want to be too hopeful, but right now, his presence is faint. More than it has been the past few weeks. I can only guess it's because the travel exhausted us. And as far I can sense, I can't travel back yet.”

With that, Allen allowed the two men to process this, caving in and eating one last apple. His gaze had been down most of the time, voice quiet, a part of him expected that the best decision might be for them to secure him elsewhere. At worst, maybe they would reconsider and demand he leave, or restrain him. The last option, he might have to warn them again, as it might only make it worst, bring the Fourteenth forward faster, with how Allen remained… anxious of being restrained again.

So he did not see how dark Altaïr's expression became, hands tightening into fists. Malik noticed, though, and if this other mind was in front of the Master Assassin, Malik had no doubt they would meet a bloody end.

Al Mualim's betrayal was still so fresh, and Altaïr seemed somewhat fond of Allen. To hear that Allen knew the fate of having something try to control you, had been struggling with it for what it sounded to be weeks, Malik could only imagine how it made Altaïr feel.

Well, he had an idea, considering his own feelings about the matter. He would be happy skewer this second mind, if he could.

Altaïr stepped closer to Allen, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. The Mentor took a second to quiet down the anger at the slight flinch when his hand had reached out, the mix of worry and hope when Allen glanced up at him.

“I can teach you to protect your mind. As it is, I have had experience with mind control.” Altaïr's bubbling fury grew quieter, softening, as he noticed how Allen frowned, unhappy and also mad at the idea that Altaïr had in fact known this. “As long as you are here, you will be under my protection and watch.”

“There is going to be displeasure, Altaïr.” Malik stepped in, moving closer. He met Altaïr's faint glare with determination. “Some might use this against you, threaten your judgement. How much will you tell our Brothers?”

Altaïr scowled, mouth in a thin line. If he lied, omitted truths, would he do what Al Mualim had done? Or would it be justified?

A hand wrapped in a gentle manner around Altaïr's wrist, startled ambers eyes met silver ones full of determination that still remained soft.

“Let me talk to them, those that you are the Mentor of.”

Altaïr stared back, trying and failing to stop the warmth that filled his chest. Malik, to their side, assessed Allen again, as if seeing him again for the first time, surprised approval in his gaze.

This was a lesson Altaïr had learned in the past year that came so naturally from Allen. If the white haired male addressed himself the matter, it would be free of Altaïr's implicit superiority. It would allow his Brothers to assess Allen directly, decide for themselves. And in addition, Altaïr was not blind to the second intent.

This would easily direct discontent toward Allen by putting him in the centre of the attention.

“Are you certain?” Altaïr asked, even if he knew the answer.

Allen smiled. “I am. Please let me do this.”

Altaïr's shoulders sagged a bit, he gave one last grip before releasing Allen's shoulder. “Very well, then.”

“But first,” Malik interfered, snorting when Altaïr and Allen both startled, **again** , before giving a pointed look at Allen, “ _Eat_. You still stare at the food as if it was water in the middle of the desert. Or do you intend to faint in the middle of your talk?”

Allen's cheeks flushed, and Altaïr's lips twitched.

Malik just looked until Allen ate the remaining of the food, eyebrows raising up alongside Altaïr's shocked interest as said food was gone in no more than a few minutes.

_Bottomless, he is a bottomless pit, isn't he?_

* * *

 

Of course, it took some time to gather the assassins present in Masyaf at the courtyard, and it was spent getting a few more informations out of Allen.

“What about the portal?” Altaïr had asked, voice going lower as he added, “You were the one to open it, weren't you?”

Allen had looked down, guilty, as he nodded. “A few months ago, I discovered I could operate what we call the Ark, which open doors to places, no matter the distance. I should only be able to do it for somewhere I have been, though.” He frowned. “In fact, I… I can recall I wasn't anywhere at first.”

“What do you mean?”

Allen was silent for a few more seconds, before he gazed up again. “It was just… never-ending white, I was floating inside. I was barely conscious, but I recall… Something touched me, and then, it was as if I knew a location.”

Altaïr's eyes sharpened. “Where did you land, exactly?”

Allen widened his eyes, not just because of the reply, but of recalling something else. “I almost fell on your desk. What you called the Apple, it was right in front of me once I caught myself. And… The sensation… It was the same when it flashed and I started speaking Arabic.”

“The Apple reached to you twice?” Malik spoke up, tensing, alarmed.

Allen scowled. “It was still trying to, when we were in the same room. Trying to offer knowledge.” Then he smiled, chuckling, but it was sad. “It's easy to brush away, when you've known the sensation of someone trying to tear your mind apart.”

Those words, spoken so calmly, it took Altaïr a good dose of self-control to not snarl. It also only made him more determined to do something. “I'll make sure the Apple is secure elsewhere.” _You have enough to deal with_ _already. I_ _can think more about how to use it later, but right now, you are the most important matter._

Allen blinked, then smiled with gratefulness. “Thank you. It has tried hinting at what the issue is, but it hasn't told me anything I couldn't guess, and I can figure it out from there.” At the inquisitive look, he explained, “The connection with the Ark is there, but weak. Either I need to recover energy, or something is making it harder and I need to figure out how to go around that.”

Altaïr just nodded, a little confused by the ideas, not because he did not understand, but because it was a lot to assimilate.

Then Malik, softly, remarked that Altaïr should tell Allen who exactly they were, if he was to speak to their Brothers.

Altaïr tensed faintly, flickering his gaze to Malik, before going back to meet Allen's curious ones. “… We are the Order of Assassins, the Brotherhood.”

Allen widened his eyes in shock, taking a step back as something akin to confusion, almost distress, filled his expression. “You… kill people?”

Altaïr's eyes were shadowed by his hood, but he stood tall. “We do not harm those that are innocents. We condemn those that threaten peace and freedom, who takes life and spread misfortune.”

Allen seemed to struggle, relaxing some, no doubt from hearing that they did not kill innocents. However, it was clear to both assassins, that Allen did not approve of murder. He was frowning, mouth thin, then, he seemed to crumble a bit, lost then shaking his head. “And it's the only solution you have?”

There was no judgement or condemnation, however the question was still genuine. Altaïr glanced to the side. “It is who we are. We value life, and that is why we protect it from those that don't.” Then, softer, “We work in the dark to serve the light.”

Allen grew troubled again, then, he breathed out a laugh. “I… I understand that feeling.” Altaïr finally looked at Allen again from under his hood, gaze lighter with some surprise. “I don't-I'd rather killing was never the option.” He dropped his gaze. “But you-I trust you.”

_You are going to melt him into a puddle at this rate_ , Malik thought even as he himself softened. Because between how much Altaïr had stalled, and seeing how his frame relaxed with relief, it felt obvious the Master Assassin had worried about Allen's reaction.

Part of Malik felt he should keep an eye on this attachment, and part of him felt glad for it.

Then he remarked that they should head out now.

* * *

 

Despite how determined Allen had been, and still looked, neither assassins were surprised to see him swallow as they came out. Still, the young man had smoothed away well the trouble the revelation had given him. Allen had a strong heart, Malik mused, and it made him understand why Altaïr reacted so positively to him.

Altaïr admired power, strength, respected it. Added in how Allen showed similar ideals, and really, if they didn't know what they did, the temptation to recruit him would be great.

Malik stayed by the door then, leaning against the wall, watching; while Altaïr let Allen stand beside him. That would have been enough to bring attention to the young man, but of course, there was still the matter of the white hair so rare on a youth, and the red brand-tattoo.

Most were cautious, confused, some suspicious, and some already frowning. Altaïr peered at those gathered with a piercing look, then put a hand on Allen's shoulder. The young man smiled, faint and shy, glancing up at Altaïr then back to the assassins.

“Brothers, I have gathered you to meet someone who has been brought here by special means. His name is Allen, and the Apple brought him here; stole him away from his home.” Murmurs went through the assassins; silenced when Altaïr stared at them from under his hood. “He has no ill intent toward us, an innocent in the whims of fate; and will be under my charge as we work to bring him home. There is, however, an issue to be aware of.”

He paused then, glancing at Allen, who gazed up, offering a smile and nodding. Altaïr looked for a second longer, then nodded back, dropping his hand but staying beside Allen. The young man looked at the small crowd, eyes filling with determination.

“Master Altaïr,” Altaïr glanced to Allen, lips twitching in amusement as he realized Allen addressed him with more respect in front of the Brotherhood, _smart_ , “has told me you have seen the Apple's effect. You know controlling the mind and body is possible.” He inclined his head. “I, too, have something trying to take control, which has taken residence within my body.”

Altaïr watched the various reaction, sensing Malik's watch too. Cautiousness came back to most, though the Mentor could tell quite a few were not void of feelings toward Allen's troubles. But some were scowling, and Altaïr noticed Abbas, noticed how he moved forward to speak, just like a few others.

“However,” Allen continued, silver eyes flickering to Abbas, then over the crowd, stopping the few those had almost spoken with the way his stance grew even stronger, confident, _driven_ , “I will never allow it to control my body and harm others.”

“How do we know you will? This is a threat to the Brotherhood!”

Altaïr narrowed his eyes at Abbas, shifting closer to Allen, while the young man looked at the man. It was a look he knew all too well, and Allen _smiled_. It threw off Abbas, no one should smile with such softness filled with sadness.

“If I lose control, kill me.” He heard Altaïr's quiet hiss as the man tensed, almost sensed Malik standing straighter. He kept his focus on the man, intense, his gaze burning. “I will not let it happen, I am not losing, and I will go back. I will not die until I am home, but if I were to lose control, I, Allen, would already be dead.” He paused, then tilted his head. “Would you condemn me for what I might do, or what I am doing? Should I let you kill me so you do not take the risk to let me fight to live?”

Malik could not prevent the proud little smirk. Especially with how Altaïr stared down at Allen, the hood might hide his expression, but Malik was best placed to see the blank look and _oh are Altaïr's cheeks a little red? This is_ _the best_ _._

“Well, Brother?” Altaïr spoke, still looking at Allen for a moment more before lifting his gaze toward Abbas. “Do we kill someone that has yet to commit crimes?”

No, of course not, there was always proof, causes; and the potential loss of control was not enough. Abbas knew it, gritting his teeth, and most of the assassins murmured again, this time nodding or at least, accepting.

Abbas tried again. “This could compromise the Brotherhood. No, this does compromise the Brotherhood.”

“This is a unique case,” Altaïr replied, voice low and edged with danger. “Being here was not his own choice, and his way back lies here. He is himself an innocent, and he remains one as long as he is in control.”

_No one will kill him under my watch, I won't let him die._

“So I ask again, Brothers,” Altaïr addressed them all, “Are we going to kill someone who has yet to commit crimes?” This time, many No came from the assassins. Altaïr put his hand on Allen's shoulder again, shifting closer, in a manner almost protective. “Allen will be our guest until we can send him back, and I will be overlooking his ability to stay in control.” _I will be the one to blame if he doesn't._ “Treat him as you would the citizens of Masyaf as for now, he is one.”

Allen relaxed under his hand, for lack of better words melting closer, comforted as the gathered assassins came to agreement with their Mentor. Then, Altaïr told them to go back to their duties, Malik coming to their side as some lingered a bit longer, but even those left.

“You could have warned me.” Altaïr declared, deadpan.

Allen grinned, too innocent. “I told you I would speak to them.”

Malik just laughed.

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 5

Hello~

So this chapter is one I really loved writing; and you will soon see why. There's a balance to get between the traits and skills of each, not wanting to make one look stronger or weaker; and I feel it came out nicely. You might have a guess now, if not, don't worry, you will see soon~

For those interested: I posted on AO3 Dear Guide Man, which is a collection of headcanons and infos, mostly about Allen, and the main canonverse I tend to work in with. Allen's life timeline and headcanons related to him, at least, apply here too!

Also, Altaïr is not being subtle about his interest in Allen, and the best in my eyes is that we can say interest and it can mean different things. Allen might or might not enjoy playing up to that interest, too. Or simply enjoy it.

Reminder that I have a blog for my fanfics at chrisemrysfics dot tumblr dot com, if you want to keep an eye on me! And since we are here, I do write original works too, which you can find at chriscassar dot carrd dot com!

I hope you enjoy~

* * *

 

  


**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 5 _

“So, what is next?” Allen asked, watching as people went with their day, though gazes were certainly thrown his way. He removed his own, lifting it to Altaïr. “Not enough time has passed for me to know if I'm just too tired to use the Ark, so at this point, I can only wait.” Lips formed a little smile. “I would prefer to be useful in the meantime.”

Altaïr inclined his head, hiding the little smile at the corner of his lips. “Wouldn't it be better if you recovered without tiring yourself?”

Allen furrowed his brow, his mouth forming a little pout. “I am going to feel restless if I don't.”

An arm landed on Allen's shoulders, who startled and snapped his gaze to the side. It was Malik, of course.

“You told us you perform?” The man asked simply, but it was enough to have Allen widen his eyes.

The young man grinned, eyes bright. “Ah, that can work.” Not right now, of course, but sooner or later.

Malik found himself ruffling Allen's hairs before he let go, snorting at the protesting yelp. He tried not to think too much of how easy the action had been, but in truth, it was hard to be wary of the way he felt warmth toward the younger man.

“You also need a place to sleep.” Malik mused outloud.

Altaïr cut in. “He can stay in my room.” He shrugged at Malik's long look and Allen's surprised one, looking to the side. “The Apple will be stored elsewhere of course; and you are under my care. It makes sense.”

_Sense, my ass,_ Malik almost said, but a look at Allen's little, pleased smile stopped him. He did sigh, though. “Fine, do as you want.” Then, more serious, “Should I relocate the Apple?”

“Please, Malik.” Altaïr nodded, the sooner it would be safe elsewhere, the better. And he only trusted Malik with this.

He would relocate it himself, but Altaïr had more pressing matters, in the form of the young man beside him, whose body relaxed knowing the Apple would not be around him for now.

Malik gave a little bow, though there was a little smirk that made Altaïr frown. “As you wish, Mentor. I'll leave you to take care of Allen.”

With that, Malik was gone, Altaïr glaring at his back, and Allen confused for a moment before shrugging it off. His eyes, however, drifted toward what he realized was the training grounds, feeling a little bit wistful.

When was the last time he could properly train?

Altaïr noticed, gaze turning calculating as it flickered between the young man and the training ground. Then, slowly, his lips lifted at the corner.

“I had plans to train my men. Would you like to join? That would certainly remove your worry of restlessness.”

The reply was written in the happy glint when Allen snapped his eyes to Altaïr.

“Ah, will it be fine, though?” He let his gaze drop. “I'm not sure...”

Altaïr didn't let him finish. “It might be the best way to gain their trust. They respect efforts, and they respect skills.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head. “You have both, don't you?”

Allen let out a laugh, shifting his weight and placing a hand on his hip. “Sir Altaïr, are you really just meaning to test me?”

Altaïr hummed. “You can't fool me, Allen. I see how you stand, how you acted when you first woke up.” He paused, almost hesitant, then added more softly, “You have the attitude that some novices don't even have. You are trained, but if I am to be your caretaker, I need to have an idea how well you defend yourself.” _Whether it is to help you, or restrain you._

It didn't sit well with the Master Assassin though, to stop there, so he found himself adding, “Besides, I would be surprised if our styles match. We might be able to learn from each other.”

Surprise showed, more than it had already appeared, soon replaced by a smile that looked happy. “I… I'd love to.” He scratched his cheek with a finger. “I don't, ah, have weapons with me, but I have been learning how to use swords. Otherwise, I fight hand-to-hand too. It has been a while since I could take the time to have a training regime, though.”

Altaïr's eyebrows rose under his hood. Hand-to-hand and swords? Now he felt even more curious. He could not help assessing again Allen's frame, not tall but not small either, not overly muscular he thought, however, Altaïr could almost guess this lean body to be well built. An agile fighter, perhaps?

Lips clearly formed a contented smile. “Let's see if you can follow ours, then.”

* * *

 

To say that the assassins in the training grounds were surprised was not wrong, to say they were more curious than cautious despite them trying to hide it was an understatement.

Altaïr had to send a dark look from under his hood to make novices and more seasoned assassins alike go back to their training as he guided Allen to the weapons. However, when they stopped, he gazed at Allen's clothings first.

“Can you fight like this?” He asked, more curious than judging.

Allen blinked. “I should take off my coat, yes.” Which he did, keeping his dark vest and white long-sleeved shirt, as well as the white glove on his left hand, indicating he would use his right hand.

Altaïr assumed he was right handed, of course. Allen wondered if he would ever have the occasion to show he was, in fact, ambidextrous.

No one noticed the little golden ball that stayed hidden within the coat, making sure to not stand out as Allen placed the folded clothes on a little wall. Not even Altaïr noticed, too busy with how casual the clothing looked, if foreign, yet… With the dark pants and boots, it almost fell like a combat style made out of casual clothes.

That, and indeed, Allen was well built, Altaïr mused. He also noticed the hint of something dark at the left shoulder, a quick glance telling him there was also something darker under the sleeve of the left arm. Or maybe it was the arm? Did he have another strange brand too? Was it the true reason he was keeping his left hand hidden?

When he lifted his gaze again, Altaïr could tell Allen noticed. The young man averted his eyes at first, then after a beat, met Altaïr's eyes. His smile, like his expression, was sheepish, but a little bit… tense.

Not a subject he wanted to speak about so soon, then. That was fine by Altaïr, despite how much more interested he felt.

“Pick a sword, then you will show me how you fight.”

Allen nodded, looking at the swords, picking a simple longsword. It felt similar enough to his Sword of Exorcism, not as broad and a little bit smaller, but it was close enough.

Altaïr stared, however, because Allen had unconsciously taken the sword like he would his own. Meaning, with his right hand, and only his right hand; using his left hand after a beat to test the balance. That was not impossible in itself, but what made Altaïr watch closely was that it didn't seem as if it was much trouble for Allen.

_He is certainly stronger than I expected._

“This one will work.” Allen assessed, smiling at Altaïr, noticing the interested look, and unable to prevent the contentment about it.

He did wonder, however, how well he would do. As much as he knew himself to be a good fighter, who knew how Altaïr fought? But he felt almost eager about this, in a way he had rarely felt. After all, it was maybe the first time that he trained just to train, rather than to stay prepared for a battle.

Besides, he did like the idea Altaïr showed, to learn from the man, and if he could truly teach something to Altaïr, Allen would be happy.

He didn't even care that they had attention on them, his focus was now on Altaïr, and he could tell the same went from the man.

They faced each other now, Altaïr taking out his own sword, getting in position. Allen did so too, sword kept in a defence posture, ready to block a hit at the chest with the flat of the blade facing Allen's chest, left hand touching the flat. Altaïr smiled under his hood.

“Let me see how you attack, Allen. I will only defend.” He called, rather challenging.

Allen's grip on the sword's handle shifted, tilting the blade ever so slightly, though there was some hesitation. _It feels so different when it's not Crown's sword…_

But just as Altaïr was about to urge Allen again, he saw the exact moment Allen's eyes turned focused, and it sent shiver down his spine, because those eyes...

They were the eyes of a seasoned warrior, of someone who knew the battlefield all too well. The eyes of someone going from casual to fighter in a split second.

Altaïr's own mind replied to it, hyper-aware of the makeshift battleground and Allen's own actions. The young man moved forward, not changing yet the way his blade was aimed, but taking fast steps to cross the distance, preparing for a blow aimed at the chest.

Altaïr was ready for it, or so he thought. Allen did not try to feint, however, the blow came faster than Altaïr anticipated, though he still blocked it. The true surprise was the strength behind it. The Mentor felt his arm rattle, his own sword pushed back toward himself for the faintest moment before Altaïr instinctively put more strength in his parry.

Amber eyes narrowed but flashed with something akin to eagerness, while focused silver eyes glinted with the faintest mischief.

Then Allen pushed a little more, yet took two steps back almost immediately. Another attack, then, but this time, the speed was another matter. Altaïr had barely the time to see the sword being lifted before he threw his own sword up, this time more than ready to put the strength necessary for the block.

There was the smallest shift in Allen's whole frame, and only his skills as a Master Assassin allowed his body to react, throwing his free arm to the side to block the kick Allen sent to his side. He almost lost his footing because of it, those legs were strong, and it hit him then.

The sword's blow had been the _distraction_.

And then Allen applied one of the first lesson of battles: never expect a blow to hit, always prepare another.

His leg had returned to the ground, becoming his stable point, weight shifting to it while the sword's pressure lessen, and this time Altaïr jumped backward to avoid the kick that had aimed for his stomach with the other foot. And he expected it when Allen moved forward once both feet were back on the ground, when he lunged forward to hit from above again.

This time, once Altaïr blocked, he immediately used one hand to wrap around Allen's right wrist, keeping them close. There were many ways to get out of this, he knew, but the simple act made Allen pause, silver eyes a little bit questioning, wondering if Altaïr meant to stop or not.

How easy was it for the young man, to shift between battle focus and simple one, to reply to Altaïr's non-verbal command. His body was still in battle though, not lowering the pressure, and ready to move again if needed.

Altaïr allowed the smile to form, Allen blinking before he smiled back.

The Master Assassin carefully relaxed his stance, and with pleasure he saw Allen mirroring this right away. They parted, allowing some distance to form, Allen waiting for either words or actions from Altaïr.

“That's very good, Allen.” Altaïr told the young man, lips twitching at the flash of little joy at the compliment. “Now let's switch, you will be on the defensive, and I will attack.”

The Mentor allowed a small grin to form for a small moment, then he started circling Allen. The young man followed with his eyes and body, never letting Altaïr enter his blind spots, moving carefully to keep facing the man.

Then Altaïr attacked. The swords clashed, once, then twice, Altaïr chaining his attacks, a third time, he moved back to circle Allen. Those silver eyes were a little wide, he had matched the speed, but to the Master Assassin, it was obvious it had been out of instincts. His body was battle trained, and rather well, but it was as if he had not expected such speed.

Or maybe, actual people weren't quite what he was used to fight. It felt strange to think that, but it also felt… right.

Altaïr attacked again, once, then in his second attack, he twirled, he had all the plans to smack Allen's back with the flat of his blade. And once more, Allen's battle instincts kicked in. He turned halfway to the left, to be able to get the flat of his own blade to intercept.

Then he kicked back with his right leg to force distance, Altaïr moved back though not quite in time, he didn't take the full kick, but it did connect some, making him stumble. But he knew that if he had taken the full hit, he would have fallen.

And of course, Allen was facing him again, a few steps away, in a proper defence position again.

Had Allen even noticed he knew to keep far from Altaïr? That it was dangerous to keep a close quarter fight?

Altaïr's blood boiled with pleasure and thrill. Allen was such a worthy opponent, he wanted to test him more, see how well he would do if it was more than just offensive and defensive turns. He wanted to put away the swords, get close with hands-to-hands.

He took notice of Allen's breathing, how tense his body was, eyes focused, despite the glint of mischief still present. Altaïr moved closer though not yet too close, circling a bit, the hood hiding that he was analysing Allen's body. He noticed faint trembles.

_Idiot_ , he mused, more fond that he should be.

“This is enough for today.” He called, dropping the battle posture to a more relaxed one, sheathing his sword.

Allen blinked, then nodded, relaxing too. Then he seemed to notice quite a few of those that had been around were still watching them, and he ducked his head a bit, moving to put the sword back in place.

Altaïr fixed his assassins with a dark look until they started training again, then joined Allen.

“You should have taken it easy today.” Arms crossed, the Master Assassin tried not to melt at the wide, innocent eyes given to him. “This tired you out, didn't it?”

Allen shrugged, lips lifting into a little smile that Altaïr's mind had trouble processing as coy. “You are a strong opponent, I'm merely affected by training with someone as skilled as you.”

Altaïr had never been more grateful for the hood because his cheeks burned, he ducked his head a bit, clearing his throat. “So are you. Still, I want you to take it easy now.” He paused, gaze drifting around as if surveying the training grounds. “I should show you Masyaf, once I have trained my men, if you are to stay for however long you need.”

Allen tilted his head, then, his smile widened. “That would be nice. Do you mind if I stay while you train them?”

Altaïr felt his lips twitch at the open curiosity. “Not at all. Do stay out of the sun, though.” His inclined his head, eyes going over what was visible of Allen's light skin. Fair, though still a bit paler than Altaïr felt was healthy for Allen. “Sunburns are not nice to get.”

Allen chuckled, grin a little amused as he replied, “Try actual burns.” He simply smiled in an innocent way when amber eyes glanced at him from under the hood, questioning but a frown in his traits.

The Mentor could tell Allen was not saying more, so with a huff that made Allen's smile broaden, Altaïr finally went to his men.

And Allen almost had a heart attack when Malik seemed to come out of nowhere, bumping shoulder with him.

_How does this keep happening_ , Allen grumbled internally.

_This is going to keep happening isn't it_ , Malik realized with amusement.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 6

Hello!

Welcome to next chapter of Assassin's Light~ A calm little chapter of thoughts and some talking, this is still in a stage where Malik and Altaïr get informations out of Allen, in this case we see Malik getting to do it.

There are also feels, because Allen's thoughts just ask for it. Though, some of Malik's thoughts will no doubt give some feels too!

This chapter also helps set a few little headcanons, like for example, Allen's age in my canonverse stories. Or how was the relation between Cross and Allen. And how Allen feels about the Order, especially Central.

On another note, I have bonus that are so far first version(s) of a scene, that made me feel I showed too early something. I am not sure whether to post them once the story is finished however, or to post them between chapters as random bonus chapter. I wouldn't count them as the weekly update, so there would be two updates, the bonus and the new chapter. So far I have four bonus, two for scenes we have already seen. But I still feel it might work best once the story is ended, if only to not end up mixing up what happened in the actual story with what is in the bonus?

Or I could post them as a separate story. What do you all think? I might make a poll on FFnet, but you can comment about this! But yes, I'll probably do a poll for this sometimes in the next hour or so (so if you aren't seeing it, it'll come soon), and keep it around until next chapter (so for one week).

Anyway; I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 6 _

Allen smiled lightly as he felt Timcanpy nip at his fingers, keeping his eyes on Altaïr however. He now sat on a small wall, having let his folded coat beside him, resting his hands beside his body, one hand conveniently half under the coat. One finger rubbed Timcanpy's body, and thankfully Tim didn't make a sound, aware Malik was standing beside Allen.

At least, the smile was easily passed off as nothing, if anything, Malik seemed to think it was from watching Altaïr train the rest of the men. Which was not wrong in itself.

It was also a good thing that Allen was sitting, because the relief had started to dawn on him, and it didn't help that he trained a small bit. It had been a very good thing that Altaïr had seen through him, noticed Allen had started pushing himself.

He had not been able to help it. It had felt as if he was back with Kanda, the swordsman not pulling back his blow when they trained together. It had even felt a bit like being with Cross again, while Altaïr had not been shooting at him with the sole command to dodge or you are dead; the man was certainly demanding, in a similar way that Cross had been.

It was a fact Allen could verify now, watching Altaïr train his men. What had Allen joked with Narain, once? _Tough love._

Allen's eyes softened, tilting his head a bit to let his hairs shadow a bit his expression as he felt the sadness creep within his chest. But of course, Malik was proving to be as sharp as he had been so far, Allen felt his gaze.

Kanda, who he did not know what happened, but hopefully he was now free of the Order that hurt him so much, had been able to make peace with Alma. Cross, who Allen still could not believe would be murdered when he had went as far as record what had sounded like a goodbye. Nairan, his first human best friend, the second loved one he had to save from the fate of being an Akuma, of trapping in pain his own sister.

He did not allow himself to go down the path of Mana, of the curse mark that he knew had made all those that noticed it curious or wary-or both. He started wondering about Link, about Road, hurt to protect him, help him escape Apocryphos. Road, he knew her to be alive; but Link… Link had to be alive too, right?

What about Lavi, who he heard nothing about? Surely, at least Bookman would have shown up, to record, when they tried to have him talk? And poor Lenalee, seeing parts of her world being torn away... There was thankfully Miranda and Krory, Timothy and Marie, yet the first two were so easily stressed themselves, and Timothy was still a child. And Marie, what did he feel with Kanda gone?

His hands tightened a bit, feeling the now familiar mix of bitterness, pain and anger. Try as he might, he could not shake the whispers of his mind that blamed Central, blamed Leverrier, for causing his precious home to fall apart from its careful, warm atmosphere. Had the Noah been part of it?

Yes, but there was no avoidance of how it had started before the event with Alma, and it did not change that the roots went back to the Order. Alma's situation had nothing to do with the Noahs, and all to do with the experiences the Order did. Lenalee's feared more Central than the Noahs.

Allen feared more Apocryphos than the Noahs.

Allen knew he should shake himself out of it. He still felt Malik's gaze on him, and for all he knew, more people might be watching him. Many had looked wary, which was understandable, but that meant they would keep an eye on him.

He felt a nip at his fingers, a bit harsher, and made a small sound, straightening his back, glancing at his hand under the coat, then quickly to Malik. The man was assessing him, and Allen offered a smile, internally wincing as the man simply lifted an eyebrow in turn.

But he rubbed Tim under the little round body in gratitude for snapping him back to reality, and directed his gaze on Altaïr again.

* * *

 

Malik allowed the silence to last for a bit longer, a part of him all too aware of the exact shade of sadness he had seen cross the younger man's expression. Whatever he had thought of as he watched Altaïr, Allen had remembered someone he lost. It echoed with the ache that would never close in Malik's chest, and maybe that was why he didn't press for knowledge.

Theirs was a life that saw death from an early age, especially someone like Altaïr who raised in ranks young, and of course life was not always kind even for normal citizens. But never should the darkness of an assassin's life meet the light of innocent citizens. Yet, when he looked at Allen, he saw both. He saw the citizens they protected, the innocent people that they should never harm, and he saw the assassins, the ones who knew death and fighting intimately.

And this duality had only gotten stronger when Malik had came back from relocating the Apple to see Altaïr and Allen facing each other. The Master Assassin had, of course, not gone after Allen in full strength nor with killing intent, but Altaïr had still gave Allen a good portion of his skills.

Allen had _matched_. Not just because he had displayed speed and strength, but because Malik-and Altaïr too he guessed-had realized Allen himself was not giving his all. It would have been impressive already if Allen had gone full out, if what he displayed was his skills, but a few details betrayed they had not seen all of what Allen could do.

For starter, Allen was obviously used to a certain weapon. He had chosen the sword that matched closest, but he had been awkward with it, and strangely, it had looked as if he did not go what to do with his left arm while holding the sword. Then, to add to the strangeness, there had been hesitation, once or twice, as if fighting someone else wasn't in his habits.

And this eerily echoed one reason Malik knew Altaïr had not gone harder after Allen: a sense of worrying you would harm your target. Altaïr always had to assess assassins before he trained them, but in this case, Allen too seemed to have assessed Altaïr.

Why did Allen, who declared he was not one to kill, showed the signs of someone who did?

Except, Malik could not and would never believe Allen lied about his feelings. That boy would not kill someone unless necessary, and even then, it still felt wrong. But what else would he face that required such skills? What did the future become?

It was somehow easy to forget, he realized, that Allen was from 700 years in the future. Was this Ark he mentioned linked to the Apple? Or was it yet another ancient object? And just who had gone after Allen? Why did he have someone else trying to control him, break his mind as Allen let slip?

So many questions, and not just those big ones. The young man was a mystery, one that seemed to lull him in, and don't get Malik started on Altaïr's own interest. Even with the Apple, Altaïr still looked at it with curiousness, and despite the danger it was, Malik could tell that if if he figured out how to use without risking his sanity, Altaïr would.

At least, Malik preferred Altaïr's focus on Allen.

If Malik helped in figuring out Allen, it was to make sure Allen was someone they could reasonably trust. No one needed to know whether or not Malik himself wanted to get past the young man's walls. No one needed to know that Allen filled a hole without replacing who had created it.

_You would have taken a liking to him, wouldn't you, Kadar?_

“I think half of those novices are being grateful to you,” Malik started, looking toward Altaïr as Allen glanced at him, confused. “Altaïr is pleased, and so he's not being as harsh as usual.” Now he looked at Allen, grinning as the young man seemed to understand the meaning and ducked his head, managing not to blush. “I have to say, it was impressive.”

Allen peered up as Malik paused, turning a bit more serious.

“How old are you, Allen?”

Allen blinked, although he had an inkling of where Malik was going with the question. “I'm nineteen,” he replied, honest.

It felt strange, to acknowledge his real age now, despite how he did not know for sure, he could be closer to twenty for all he knew, months and years of his early life very vague. Most of all, it was his time in the streets that he was not sure of, he had known to be five when the orphanage took him in, and since he had seen two winters, he had known two years had passed, more or less, before he ran away.

He had known from seasons, that two more winters had passed. When he had been sold to the circus, he had known he was nine at least, but when the ringmaster had wanted to know his age… He said seven. And he found himself keeping to this lie, not even thinking about for so many years. His age was not relevant, an info like any other for files, when even a kid like Timothy would not escape the fate of an Exorcist.

But since he had to run away, his body matured, which felt ironic considering how hard it had been on him, lack of proper sleep and often needing to eat less than he should. Still, he noticed himself maturing, and somehow, he found himself accepting it again, those time before the circus, even if the memories were vague.

The hum of Malik brought Allen back, though of course, he had not gotten lost into his own mind for more than a few moments. Still, Malik's look told Allen that the man did notice.

“You must have learned young, to have the skills you have now. I would wonder if you are a natural learner, but your skills show experience.” Malik watched as Allen looked forward, mirroring him, allowing the younger male to not meet gazes.

His question was not invasive though, and Allen understood why. No matter if Altaïr and Malik had given his some trust, they needed to know certain things to keep the goodwill of said trust.

“I was fourteen when I met the man who took me as an apprentice. I already knew circus tricks, had some agility to go with it, but Shishou… He taught me exercises for my balance and stamina, how to use my left hand.” He lifted it, smiling wryly. “It used to be paralysed from the elbow down through my childhood. So he taught me card games for dexterity, and taught me how to train my whole body.” He snorted, letting his arm fall back, resting his hand on the small wall again. “He also got so many debts I had to do whatever work I could find, and his idea of combat training started with shooting at me with the sole advise of,” He altered his voice, not doubt mimicking his master, “dodge if you want to live. That **bastard**.”

The last word was not in Arabic, but Malik guessed the meaning, and he found himself laughing. “A rough master, wasn't he?”

Allen snorted. “Cross is a true devil. His next idea was to throw me in battle.” He let out a long suffering sigh. “The worst, because he got so damn proud, was that it _worked_. He told me after that he noticed I had good instincts, so I should just listen to them. And, of course, that I would manage if I wanted to live.”

Malik shook his head, amused. Part of him felt a little twitchy about such a though training, but at the same time, no matter what Allen said or how he shuddered and appeared gloomy, there was define fondness there. Besides, from what he could hear, and what he saw, Malik could tell the training had indeed worked. If he had to take a bet, he would even say that this Cross had not been far when he threw Allen in his first battles.

“This is going to give Altaïr ideas.” Malik mused, unable to decide if it should be a good or bad thing.

“What is going to give me ideas?”

Malik jumped, letting out a small curse. Allen grinned. _Oh that little rascal-he knew Altaïr was coming!_

And Altaïr's lips twitched, forcing the smirk away. _Taste your own_ _medicine_ _, Malik._

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 7

Hello~

Welcome to next chapter of Assassin's Light! Today, Altaïr gets to meet two special someone~! I hope you enjoy how it happens, and the way Altaïr and Allen interacts in this~

A quick note: I have been doing WIP Week; and tomorrow (thursday), I will post on my tumblr blog (chrisemrysfics) the actual number of chapters I have already written so far, and maybe even a little snippet from a future chapter (that wouldn't spoil anything obviously)!  
So if you feel curious, it will be the chance~

Also: you will notice chapters have gotten longer. It can vary, but this kind of length from today seems to be the norm with this story (which I don't mind at all, that's for sure)!

(About the bonus for this story: I am likely to post them as bonus chapters between updates! So look out for an update that's a bonus chapter in the next few days~)

On another note, as I accidentally revealed to someone because I kind of mixed up when exactly it is said, there is an important info that will come in next chapter, and I'm not going to reveal it, but I am going to hint at it (this isn't something big or spoilery, but it certainly has given misleading until you realize the truth). So my hint is: remember what was involved in Allen's arrival, and what they do. The Apple gave the knowledge. The Ark transported Allen. But what does the Ark allow to cross?

I am saying no more (but I'll reply to guesses), so now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 7 _

“My master, Malik seems to think you would get inspired by him.” Allen supplied, redirecting the attention to him, and so saving Malik from teasing in a way.

Though the way Altaïr's gaze lingered just long enough, smirk showing for a second, told that he would not forget that moment. Then again, he should be careful because Malik sure as hell would not forget Altaïr's own lack of focus. Or at least, where his focus had been.

“Master? The man who taught you to fight?” Altaïr inquired, curious.

Allen nodded. “Shishou,” seeing a little confusion he added the explanation, “That is, master in another language; he took me in when I was fourteen.” Then, he processed to relay the same informations he had given Malik, about his left arm having been paralysed, and his training, not going deeper than what he had already said.

Altaïr scowled however, arms crossed. “He threw you into a battle? You had a weapon at least? Where was he?”

Allen scratched his cheek with a finger, chuckling. “He was on the roof, watching me. He did interfere when I first couldn't,” He waved with his hand, letting them assume he meant he couldn't fight. He did not know yet whether to speak about what exactly his weapon was. “But that's when I got my resolve.”

Cross had interfered when the Akuma had almost gotten Allen, and then, seeing the soul being saved, the peace coming back to it, that was when Allen felt for the first time his connection to Crown Clown. That had been the moment he realized that the souls suffered and needed to be saved.

“I see.” Altaïr's fingers tapped on his arm. _What did you fight, though, Allen?_ “Is-” He started to ask, then paused, gaze flickering around. No one was close enough to listen, but he knew the novices were too curious, some not even subtle about watching. “Is it okay now? How do you feel?”

Allen and Malik both saw through the change in question, although it also sounded genuine. The younger man smiled. “Yes, I am better. I probably should take it easy for the rest of the day, but I've rested well. I'm good. Are we going to see Masyaf, then?”

It took all of Malik's willpower not to comment about that. His look toward Altaïr, that the man ignored, was more than enough.

“We are.” The Mentor paused for a moment, tilting his head to look at Malik.

But the man shook his head. “There's work to do for me.” Malik knew it was more than taking a walk, however someone still needed to be there, and Altaïr could always discuss with him later. The work in question was partly Altaïr's, but the man had declared himself responsible for Allen, and in this case, Malik was willing to help.

For Allen, of course; and Altaïr owed him on this.

“I suggest, however, that you get local clothes, Allen.” Malik eyed Allen's current clothing. “Outside these walls, they won't know anything about you, and it would be best they don't suspect.” With that said, the man waved his hand, and went back inside the fortress.

Allen blinked, looking down at himself, then at Altaïr, letting the man analyse his frame with his amber eyes before sliding off the small wall, taking his coat in his arms. He could feel Timcanpy pressed into his chest, making sure nothing of himself showed.

Altaïr nodded to himself. “We should have clothes that fit you. Come.”

* * *

 

Altaïr unfolded the tunic he had gotten, placing it against Allen's chest, nodding before he did the same to trousers, and after a moment of consideration, picked a short robe with a hood, adding it to Allen's pile of clothing in his arms.

Allen flickered his gaze from the clothing to Altaïr, no doubt having realized the assassins had their own form of outfit, but the Master Assassin simply lead the way to his room. The young man was grateful for the occasion to change out of sight, though he wondered, would Altaïr stay in the room? Turn around?

Should he mention Timcanpy? And then… Then there was his left arm. The scars on his body, it would not be a problem if Altaïr noticed. But his arm… He knew the man had spotted the blackness a bit, but it was another thing to see the arm itself.

He did not think Altaïr would react badly, yet, his heart still feared. The only ones who had treated him well were those who had known what it was; and Mana. Altaïr had taken well so far all that had happened and that had been said, but would it extend to his arm, too?

He almost smacked into Altaïr's back when they arrived to his room, stopping at the last moment, but the way the man glanced from under his hood told Allen his mood had been noticed. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then, Altaïr pushed open his door, stepping to the side with a motion for Allen to enter.

“You should not have trouble putting these on, but call me if you need.”

Allen felt relief wash over him, and with it, guilt. The man knew Allen was nervous about something, and he was allowing the secret.

Amber eyes softened at the younger man's hesitation, the way he was staring back at Altaïr, and he put his hand on the younger's shoulder, pushing him lightly into the room, ignoring the random thought that Allen was only a bit shorter than him, his eyes level with Altaïr's mouth.

The young man stumbled lightly, then glancing at Altaïr again, he smiled a bit shyly before he went inside, closing the door behind him. Altaïr leaned against it, listening to the sounds of Allen changing, arms crossed.

Inside, Allen soon put the clothing on the desk, feeling glad to not see the apple, and put a finger on his mouth when Timcanpy wiggled from under the pile. He gently picked the golem in his hands, lifting him to his face and keeping any sounds from escaping his mouth as the golden golem happily nuzzled him.

Then he put the golem down on the desk, and started changing. Allen was in fact very glad for the choice of clothing, especially the hooded robe, as it would make it easier to hide Timcanpy in it. Still…

Altaïr's willingness to not push had brought Allen to wonder whether or not it would be so bad, to show Altaïr.

And when he stood there, into the new clothes, but without having put back his gloves on and Timcanpy watching him from the desk, Allen gazed at his left hand. Warmth trickled from it, down his arm, into his chest; reassuring and gentle.

Allen's lips lifted into a fond little smile, and then he called out, “Altaïr?”

The door opened in the next moment, the man peeking inside. Allen half turned, and watched as the man tensed when he noticed Timcanpy, relaxing once he realized it was not the Apple. Confused amber eyes shifted to him, then flickered down, noticing the blackness of the hand without seeing much more from where he was.

Allen's smile was sheepish, and his eyes were similar to this morning, almost vulnerable.

Altaïr stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and approached. It was distracting, to see Allen wear clothing that could very well mark him as a novice, as _his_ novice, but it was small compared to the faint warmth as he realized Allen was showing him what he had been hiding earlier.

The young man scratched the back of his neck once Altaïr stood in front of him, letting his hand drop back to his side as amber eyes followed the movement, no doubt taking into the dark skin and the silver four traits at the back of it in a cross like shape.

A twisting feeling assaulted Altaïr then, a worry. A cross like shape… He hoped it had nothing to do with the Templars. Would they still exist in the future? But then, surely, Allen would have reacted differently to being in the middle of assassins. Unless… Unless the Brotherhood fell? Unless future members did not know about the assassins of old?

Altaïr found himself praying it was not the case, that the explanation was something else. Anything but Allen being anywhere close to those that were their enemies. His Eagle Vision did not lie, Allen had blue, and with a quick flash, he confirmed it, in fact the aura that was around Allen…

It was this shape again, a sort of cocoon that he suddenly realized could be associated to a cloak all around his frame, blue tinted in silver and gold.

“Altaïr, meet Timcanpy.” Allen's soft voice brought Altaïr to focus on the golden… orb with wings and tail? That also possessed a cross mark, he noticed.

And teeth. The man made a sound of surprise when Timcanpy grinned, showing two row of sharp teeth.

“Tim, please.” Allen chided, fond and amused, letting out a small laugh as the golem puffed in what was no doubt a pout, closing his mouth.

“What is.. are they?” Altaïr could feel the curiosity rising. Timcanpy seemed alive, but what a strange being. Or maybe not so strange, in the future? “A new specie?”

Allen chuckled, stepping closer and poking Timcanpy's puffed body with a finger. “Not really. He's… ah, well, a mix of technology and magic. He's sentient, but he is also for communication and recording.” He noticed some confusion, Altaïr trying to make sense of the words, with some surprise at the mention of magic tinted in disbelief.

What came out of Altaïr's mouth was, “So he's an advanced, man made pigeon?”

Allen could not help it, he snorted and dissolved into laughters, stammering, “P-Pigeon-” before he suddenly moved and smacked his hands around Timcanpy, who had started flying up. In the end, Allen stood there, hands around the golem who was, in fact, biting into the fingers of the left hand, making grumbling sounds, while Allen himself was still giggling.

Altaïr tried, and failed, to not cross his arms, at least he stopped himself from pouting. Or so he hoped. The hood should be hiding it. And if he was storing inside his mind the sound of Allen's laughters, it was for his own privacy.

The young man sounded like he had not laughed like this in a while, too. For that, he was willing to allow the knowledge it was directed at him, although he knew it was not in malice.

“S-Sorry, it's just-That's probably one way to put it.” He snickered as he felt Timcanpy nibble at his fingers, though the golem was now just resting between his hands, so he brought them close, shifting his right to pat the golem's body. “We call those like Timcanpy golems. I'm afraid I can't say that much about how they are made or how they work, though Timcanpy is rather unique. My master, Cross, made him. All I know is that his body is technically made of metal, but animated with magic, although I don't know much about magic, rather, only what I've seen people do. And then Timcanpy can keep in his memory what he sees and hears, then project them.”

Timcanpy stopped nibbling, suddenly grinning. Allen glanced down in confusion, then widened his eyes as if realizing something. “Tim-”

Too late, the golem opened his mouth, and a white slightly see-through rectangle. Then, Altaïr could see a scene in it, alongside the sounds that came with it. It was from earlier, the angle telling Altaïr the golem had been hiding in the coat, when they faced each other.

It was also the exact moment Altaïr had wrapped a hand around Allen's wrist, keeping them close. Like this, Altaïr could see the looks of others, so many had been in fact watching, and some had a bit too much of consideration in their gazes for comfort. Especially those directed at Allen.

Altaïr didn't realize his eyes narrowed, a low growl coming from him, until Allen called his name with confusion. The golem dropped the recording, simply sitting on Allen's hand with a smug grin, while Allen seemed to worry, face however still a little red from a blush.

Altaïr cleared his throat. “I feel teased.” He commented, glaring down at the golem. When he lifted his eyes again, they were softer. “This is a very good ability, though. You also seem close to him.”

Allen lowered his gaze, smiling down at Timcanpy. “He's my best friend.”

Timcanpy seemed to preen, nuzzling into Allen's hands.

Altaïr fought back a smile, feeling some fondness. _Good, there is someone who looks out for him_. With the focus on the golem, and the hands that held him, the man was reminded of the second sight that had taking him by surprise upon entering.

Allen stiffened when a hand came to fold under his left, another gently picking the golem, who soon fluttered to sit on Allen's shoulder. The young man could not move his eyes from how Altaïr's right hand held his hand, keeping it open as a finger of the left brushed inside the palm.

Altaïr found that the… skin? felt smooth but hard, yet also warm. It was as if the limb was a smooth metal, yet no doubt a limb. He felt the small shiver that went through the limb, but when he glanced up subtly, the faint blush betrayed why.

“You said your arm had been paralysed… Was this the cause? Or is this why it isn't anymore?” The implicit question was, of course, what was this.

He should probably remove his hands, but there was something in Allen's expression, as if he was not used to someone holding, or even touching, his unique limb… It made Altaïr keep his hold, deep down utterly fascinated and enthralled, not by the arm, but by Allen's reaction.

Allen felt his heart thump hard, still staring at how Altaïr's hand seemed to just let his own rest in it, barely registering the fingers that pushed up the sleeve to reveal more of the arm. He felt the focus on his face, lifted his gaze, and felt his cheeks heat a bit more at the intense wonder.

“Both,” He started, voice barely coming out, he swallowed and continued, his voice more normal, “It was paralysed because it was, ah, dormant, and it could move once it awakened.” He paused, nipping his bottom lip, and he felt fingers squeezing his hand, as if encouraging. His gaze stayed down as he finished, almost in a whisper, “I was born like this.”

Then he took a deep breath, and lifted his gaze, determined as he looked into Altaïr's eyes.

“This is Innocence, a weapon to fight against evil. In my case, one that became a part of my body.” A smile formed, small and a bit shy. “Innocence also has a form of mind of its own. Mine is called Crown Clown.”

 _Ah_ , Altaïr mused, shifting into his Eagle Vision. _I understand now._

The shape in the aura shifted, the mask clearer, seeming to form a smile, and some of the aura wrapped around his hand, the one still holding Allen's.

Warmth, gratefulness, curiosity, and even what appeared to be shyness, brushed his mind. Not without a sense of protectiveness, a warning against hurting Allen.

Altaïr's lips twitched, then, he allowed the small smile to form, meeting Allen's eyes with his amber ones still shimmering with gold.

“It's nice meeting you two, Timcanpy, Crown Clown.”

And the bright, joyful smile from Allen as Altaïr addressed the two was worth all the hardness of wrapping his head around all this.

_To be continued…_


	9. Bonus Chapter: Drafts of the prologue!

Hello~

As promised, here is the first bonus chapter! It features three original drafts for parts of the prologue, as I corrected it quite a few times to have the final thing and feel satisfied with it. For the most part, you will see that most of the editing was done because I felt I was revealing too much too soon.

In order, we have: the original way Allen arrives in Altaïr room, the second draft of how the Eagle vision went (during the scene of Allen's arrival); and both the original way he arrived and the use of Eagle vision were edited out in the end. The third part is the original way it went when Altaïr checked for weapons on Allen's passed out body (which is directly in the final prologue), and I ended up removing it because I didn't want Timcanpy to show too early!

You will see that in the original way Allen arrives, he's still clinging to consciousness when Altaïr enters, but not long enough to speak. His left hand was also exposed (which is why Altaïr used the Eagle Vision in the original draft).

So in the end, I decided against Allen being conscious, against having his hand exposed, so to delay the first use of Eagle Vision, and decided against Timcanpy showing himself. The most important for me too ended up that, by not having Altaïr use the Eagle Vision in the prologue, his decision to just keep Allen with him and not put him in a cell was really his own and could not be misinterpreted as being affected by seeing Allen's aura.

I won't pretend Allen's aura hasn't been a reason Altaïr trusted him, but I didn't want it to look as if it affected Altaïr this much; as rather, all it does is let Altaïr know Allen's intents are good.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Bonus chapter: Drafts of the prologue! _

 

**(First draft of Allen's arrival.)**

 

Space, dimensions, worlds; a theory that the Isu knew about. Their calculations, their knowledge, however, never found a proof, or at least, only of the possible futures of their own world.

Yet, the Apple existed, full of knowledge, ready to offer it to those that sought it.

A pulse awakened the Apple, the golden sphere starting to lit up, but without witness.

_Let me give you a location. Let me give you all you need._

_Let me guide you. Let me keep you._

The Apple reached out, the light even brighter.

And then the Apple recoiled, growing dim again.

“ _How dare you, my master is not yours to command!”_

 

LINE BREAK

 

No matter the intent, no matter if the intrusion had left, it had been enough.

The Ark had a location.

And Crown Clown grew dormant itself, energy drained to open the gate again.

Light flashed again the room, but not from the Apple this time.

A white, diamond-like shape rose from the floor, a body falling from it, landing while the whiteness shattered and vanished.

The young man caught himself on a desk, clinging to consciousness by a small thread, silver eyes dazed with a confused frown as he stared at the golden orb, feathers gone from his left arm which instead was its normal, black colour with the silver cross symbol at its back. He could feel Timcanpy in his pocket, about to wiggle out, when the sound of a door opening reached his ears, and the golem grew still again, waiting.

Allen flickered his gaze to the man that froze in the entrance. Darkness was already taking over his sight, light-headed, yet he could not miss the sudden sensation of danger.

But it was too late. His mind blanked out, unconsciousness grabbing him.

 

LINE BREAK

 

All Altaïr had wanted was to rest, to lay down and relax after another day spent discussing with Malik the changes he wanted to bring. He had yet to regain the trust of all assassins, but his unwillingness to punish them had earned him back some of those that rebelled already.

Abbas was another matter, unwilling it seemed to let go of his suspicions, of his hate. At least, while Malik would never lose the sharp comments, Altaïr knew their bond was healing. Malik could see him as the man he was becoming, while still ready to call him out, but never in blind hate. And the Master Assassin knew he needed that, not that he would easily admit it.

But still, it had been a long day, and Altaïr wanted his rest. For once, he did not even feel like sitting by the Apple, questioning whether or not to use it. The knowledge he knew he could gain still tempted him, but the memory of Al Mualim were still too fresh. He could not risk it, not when he was only starting to rebuild the order.

So really, the last thing he needed was to find an intruder in his own room, standing in front of the Apple.

The shock froze Altaïr for a second, his mind taking into everything all at once, the pure whiteness of the person's hairs, the strange beige coat, never mind the pants; and even more so the way they were not quite standing and more so leaning on his desk.

The person tilted their head in the same moment, revealing a young man's face, and silver eyes that looked distant even as they focused on him.

The assassin scowled, moving forward, left hand ready to draw his hidden blade, a demand on his lips.

Then he witnessed the exact moment those eyes lost focus, even when he seemed to sense danger, body moving back from Altaïr like a last survival instinct. But his legs could not support him anymore, no more than his consciousness could stay, and the stranger's eyes closed as he fell down on his knees.

Altaïr found himself taking the last steps faster, getting on his knees himself, hands catching the young man's shoulders to stop him from smacking down face-first.

He stared, estimating the young man was just out of his teens, no more than twenty at most. His skin was pale, traits tired, but most of all, a red… brand? Tattoo? Ran down his left eye and cheek, a pentagram above his eye.

Something black attracted his gaze, and Altaïr looked down. The stranger's arm was black, the hint of silver at the back of his hand. Yet… Looking at it, Altaïr felt something loosen. He shifted one hand, reaching to take this black hand, and somehow not surprised at how smooth it felt, yet still warm.

He turned the hand to reveal the silver was another brand, a silver cross.

Altaïr narrowed his eyes. A Templar?

He shifted his gaze back on the face, then to the Apple.

It had not been moved at all, which meant the intruder had not touched it. Yet, he had been affected by something, already close to collapsing by the time Altaïr entered.

A thought occurred, and Altaïr moved his gaze over the young man's body, but no, he did not see blood. Then he glanced around, but again, nothing seemed disrupted. It was as if…

As if the young man had simply… appeared. Right there in his room.

In front of the Apple.

Altaïr's mouth thinned, amber eyes fixing the young man's face, the strange brand, flickering to the strange arm. Then he shifted, picking this little intruder up in his arms, frowning as he felt too light. He stood there, once more finding him fixing his gaze over the younger's face, unable to shake the thought of how exhausted he looked.

To put him into a cell, or a room?

Amber eyes glimmered with gold-and Altaïr almost dropped the young man.

_What the-_

The aura was white, but not the white of those neutral, it was bright, and he realized it was in fact, silver. A silver white with the lightest hues of blue shimmering in it.

That, and it had the faintest shape of _something_ , a cocoon that Altaïr's mind associated with feathers and fluff, half wrapped around the body, covering the back of his head, wrapped around his neck, down his two arms.

It was brighter at the face, yet Altaïr saw it, he saw the shape of mask.

He was the glint of silver in the mask's eye, watching him.

Then it was all gone, and only the white-blue aura remained, no, he realized, the aura that remained that the lightest blue, constantly shifting into a light gold.

He let go of his Eagle sight. He unconsciously brought the body in his arms closer.

Whoever this young man was, his sixth sense screamed of _protection_. Of goodness and gain, a potential ally and one who contained something he needed.

Forget the cells, forget a room, Altaïr was placing this one _in his bed_. The mere thought of allowing him out of sight sent his instincts **screaming** , body tensing. He knew it was an after-effect, born from the unique aura, still imprinted in his mind.

He needed to see him, to have him where he could hear and sense, until his instincts settled.

* * *

 

**(Second draft of Eagle Vision use, eventually removed with the rest of the original arrival.)**

 

Amber eyes glimmered with gold-and Altaïr almost dropped the young man.

_What the-_

The aura was white, but not the white of those neutral, it was bright, and he realized it was in fact, silver. A silvery white with the lightest hues of blue shimmering in it.

That, and it had the faintest shape of _something_ , a cocoon that Altaïr's mind associated with feathers and fluff, half wrapped around the body, brighter and almost blinding.

He let go of his Eagle sight, unconsciously bringing the body in his arms closer.

Whoever this young man was, his sixth sense screamed of _protection_. Of goodness and gain, a potential ally and one who contained something he needed.

Forget the cells, forget other rooms, Altaïr was keeping this one _in his_ _own_. The mere thought of allowing him out of sight sent his instincts **screaming** , body tense. He knew it was an after-effect, born from the unique aura, still imprinted in his mind.

He needed to see him, to have him where he could hear and sense, until his instincts settled.

If he ended up putting the young man down on his bed, and resting in a pile of pillows beside it, then so be it.

* * *

 

**(Removed part with Timcanpy.)**

 

Then pain blossomed as teeth snapped at his fingers, and Altaïr let out a surprised yelp, taking his hand back. He stared as a golden orb with wings and a tail sprang from the hidden place, teeth revealed as it _growled_ at him.

His hand twitched, however Altaïr took pause when, rather than attack, the… being fluttered to sit on the young man's chest, wings dropping low as it let out a low, sad coo as it nudged at the chin. The young man barely reacted, face twitching but nothing else.

Altaïr shifted, and the flying orb twisted toward him, snapping his teeth while its tail moved with agitation. Like a dog protecting their master, he mused.

“Do you want me to leave him on the floor?” The Master Assassin muttered, staring pointedly back. Somehow, he knew he was being fixed, even without actual eyes on these being.

Wings dropped again, yet the little thing managed to radiate mistrust.

Altaïr sighed, rubbing the side of his face. He just wanted to rest, this was just too confusing. And it wasn't as if he could get answers, with the stranger unconscious.


	10. Chapter 8

Hello~

Welcome to the next chapter of Assassin's Light! Allen had time to think, to realize a little fact, I know headcanons about the Ark and what it can do are varied, but my personal one is that he can travel space (dimensions) but not time. Meaning: he cannot go into the past or the future; and if it looks like he does, he is just in another dimension, another timeline. Within DGM, it could be a world that almost fully the same and he just lands in a different moment, but remains two different world. In the case of this story, well: it does mean the world of AC is not the world of DGM.

I'll be honest: I have yet to decide if there is a link between the two world or not, but I am leaning toward no. The fact is, the world of AC is based on technology that became so advanced it can do a lot, but is still science; while the one of DGM deal with magic and as far as we know, holy powers and dark powers. I find myself very unwilling to pretend only one of those two worlds is “right”. I don't want to remove the way AC set up such technology, and I don't want to pretend magic and everything in DGM world might be just technology. The only solution so far I have seen is that both magic and technology existed; but in each world, one kind “won”. That still doesn't change that it requires heavy worldbuilding, and is still hard to keep both world's uniqueness.

Besides, I do kind of like the whole idea that each world has things unique to them, and all that can happen from it. Rest assured though, while I don't think I'll connect both worlds in a similar background, I certainly plan for both world to come into contact~ Would be a shame not to do that!

Now for this chapter: Altaïr slowly wiggle out more infos out of Allen, it's really implicit all through the chapters but that's what Altaïr and Malik have been doing and will be doing; they're trying to understand as much as possible, both out of curiosity, and because they prefer knowing as much as possible; just in case. And Allen is willing to share, a big part because poor baby has been on his own for weeks, more than three months in my canonverse, and he's longing deep down to be safe and to have positive interactions.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 8 _

Altaïr watched as Allen rolled back down the sleeve, picking up the gloves he had to put them back on. He felt almost disappointed, wanting to look longer, wishing that Allen did not hide it, but he understood. This was not something to reveal lightly; which made it all the more precious that the young man decided to tell Altaïr.

The man stepped forward, reaching out to pull the hood up on Allen's hairs, earning a little smile, though it was hesitant, shy. He nodded to the young man; allowing a faint smile of his own to show, reassurance to the younger.

Allen's smile brightened a bit, and then he was chuckling as Timcanpy wiggled his way to hide somewhere at the neck. The clothes needed stashes however, but Altaïr knew he had placed them in the pile earlier, so he grabbed them, and fitted them around Allen's stomach himself. Then he took a step back, pretending not to see the way Allen was a bit wide eyed and flushed, nodding once.

“You look the part, outsiders will think you are just a new recruit.” One that the Mentor seemed to have taken a liking to, he knew deep down; it might as well work for them so no one would bother Allen, for fear of the Mentor's anger.

And so, Altaïr guided Allen out, the young man walking at his side.

* * *

 

Silver eyes were bright with interest as they walked outside the fortress, although Allen stayed close to Altaïr. When the man addressed him though, his attention shifted to the assassin right away. It pleased Altaïr, not that he showed it.

“You mentioned… how Timcanpy was made,” He started, keeping his words from betraying too much. Here was not a place that might have enemies, but some truths were better kept between the two of them; or three, with Malik. Besides, the matter of those that had rebelled before, of Abbas, was still too fresh to let his guard down. “Metal exists of course, but the other part… I thought I saw it in action, but I've been told it was just advanced.”

Allen tilted his head, able to understand Altaïr spoke of magic, and not quite certain what he meant that he saw, but so far the only element that matched was the Apple. “How I came here?” At Altaïr's nod, Allen smiled, if a bit sad. “To be honest, I can't be certain. I thought about it, and… I don't think I'm from, ah, forward.”

Altaïr frowned, leading them through the streets. “What do you mean?”

Allen's eyes were taking into the surroundings, but his attention redirected to Altaïr every so often, especially when he spoke. “You remember what I said about the Ark?” A nod. “Space and time are different. It is space I travelled, distance.” He frowned, waiting for them to not have people around before he said more clearly, “The year might be different, but at most, your world and mine coexisted without meeting, and I moved from mine to yours. This is not my past, and I'm not from your future. I guess the closest I can think of are mirrors, my world is like the reflection, it exists but isn't here. And the Ark allowed me to pass through the mirror.”

Silence fell for a bit, though not uncomfortable. They moved without stopping though, at a pace not too fast to allow time for Allen to watch Masyaf. The time of silence allowed Altaïr to wrap his mind around what Allen had explained. He couldn't quite grasp it, but he understood enough.

How fascinating, truly. What was different, what was similar? The places in itself seemed similar, but there was at least one element that might differ.

“Magic exist in your, ah, world then?” His gaze flickered to the left hand, and it occurred to him that Allen had chosen to walk at his right, keeping his left arm between them. “I'm guessing this too, might be unique to yours.”

Allen smiled. “Probably. I can't say for sure, of course, but…” He shrugged. “It's hard to explain, but Crown doesn't seem to pick either side. If they are around, they are barely active.” He frowned, something worried in his gaze.

Altaïr nudged his shoulder with his own, directing them toward the stable at the entrance, lips twitching as Allen's eyes brightened at the sight of the horses. He allowed the young man to approach one, staying just behind him, and watched how the animal, a stallion, seemed to get calm under the young man's scent, leaning into the gentle touch of his hands.

“These horses are beautiful.” Allen murmured, chuckling as the stallion's muzzle pushed against his chest, demanding more pets.

“And they seem to like you.” Altaïr commented, crossing his arms. “Is something wrong, Allen?” When the young man glanced above his shoulder, he elaborated, “You seemed… concerned, when you spoke of Crown.”

Allen sighed, smiling softly as the horse let out a small sound, petting gently down its neck. “It's too soon to know if it's because the travel exhausted me, but I… I can't activate it. I can feel it, but if I try to activate, it is as if there is a block.”

A hand rested on his shoulder, gripping lightly, and Allen turned toward Altaïr, worried eyes meeting calm ones.

“I promised you I would help you get back. It also means I will keep you safe. If there is a problem, we will find a solution.”

Allen's frame relaxed, smile genuine and almost warm. “Thank you, Altaïr.” He shook his head, looking down. “I'm more troubles that you could tell at first glance, so it means a lot you are still willing to help me.”

Altaïr's fingers tightened a bit, and he pulled Allen closer, knowing no one was seeing them where they stood. His arm slipped around Allen's shoulders, the young man making a small sound as he found himself pressed against the man's side.

He glanced up, into golden amber.

“Stop it, Allen. I know you have good intentions, that you are not an enemy.” His eyes seemed to flash pointedly. “The Apple is under my responsibility, and the Apple brought you here. It is my fault as much as it is my duty to fix what it did.” The gold left his eyes, and this close he could not hide the softening of his gaze. “I am good at picking good men from bad ones, and I know you are a good one. That is more than enough.”

And no matter how much a rational part of his mind tried to say he should be careful of growing too trusting too soon, it was minimal compared to the rest of him, to the want to protect that was stronger than the distance he put with others.

Warmth washed over Allen, both figurative and literal, he felt tempted to just stay close like this, enjoying the safety he hadn't felt in weeks. He felt almost touched, he felt like he could have cried, but he only smiled, although he felt like Altaïr could see Allen had come close to crying. The man didn't comment on it though, and when Allen finally moved back, he let him go.

“You are a good Mentor, Altaïr.” Allen told him, voice soft.

Altaïr found himself tilting his head, though the little smile that formed was visible. It was dry. “If you had met me weeks ago, I am not sure you would have thought the same.”

Allen breathed out a laugh. “And weeks ago, I had no idea how many things would change.” His shoulders dropped, he let out a sigh. “If you weren't Mentor material before, you are now.” He shrugged. “That is more than enough. And don't forget I had a devil of a master. I know what I am saying.”

Altaïr could not stop the snort that escaped him. “The way you speak about him, anyone might be a better mentor.”

Allen laughed in reply, free and genuine. “That-I don't think I can deny. But...” He smiled, fond and yet, sad. “He taught me well.”

Altaïr hesitated, then he asked, quietly, “Is he..?”

Something pained crossed Allen's face. “I… I **can't** believe it. He-” He let out a shuddering sigh, and Altaïr spotted Timcanpy nuzzling his neck. “He left me a message with Tim, it felt too much like a goodbye, and that's why… That's why I can't believe he would know something might happen, and not have a plan. But facts indicated that… he was murdered.”

Altaïr barely suppressed a flinch, both at the word, and the anger, almost cold and hard, that showed in Allen's eyes. “I'm sorry, Allen.”

Allen offered a smile, something way too perceptive in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Altaïr nodded toward the entrance, and after a last few petting to the horse, Allen and he walked back into Masyaf, through the street back to the fortress. This time, Altaïr did not press for anything, allowing a moment for Allen to gather his mind, and also to give him the occasion to really watch the village.

There was something nice in watching the young man slowly gather himself, getting interested and bright eyed, curious and yet sometimes shy as they stopped at the market. More than one glanced at Allen's way, but between the clothes and Altaïr's presence, the trick worked: most assumed he was a new recruit. There was something different, of course, but the people in Masyaf trusted the men of the fortress, and Altaïr.

They knew his presence meant that this young man was _his_ , under _his_ protection.

_Meet him, and remember to treat him well._

* * *

 

They found Malik in the library desk that overlooked the main hall, which Allen realized was one of Altaïr's office, in a sense. The Mentor exchanged words with Malik, Allen tuned it out soon as he noticed the work mood, instead going to the railing, leaning against it with his arms crossed, watching the people go at their day.

How peaceful he felt here, in the middle of assassins, far from his homeworld. Was it the distance, the certainty he was away from all dangers but the one in his head? Was it because, no matter how much his stomach clenched at the idea that these men killed people, it still felt like he was within the Black Order?

Crown Clown's flared with unhappiness, making Allen's frame tense, eyes seeking what his Innocence seemed to take offence about. His eyes met the ones that had been observing, Abbas he believed his name was. The man blinked, startled, which told Allen that the man had only just gotten there, but the sensation Allen had received from Crown was one he knew well.

A warning, a faint almost-whisper of being under watch.

Abbas looked away, and walked off, tense himself. The way the stranger in these walls had located him so soon, the piercing gaze that found him, and the almost knowledge… This Allen was dangerous, unknown, and yet Altaïr seemed to trust him.

Was Altaïr planning something? Or was it Allen Walker? Abbas did not like it, what sort of Mentor was Altaïr being?

He would keep an eye on them, Altaïr might have calmed down the rebellion for now, but it did not mean all had been forgotten. They would wait for when Altaïr would proved he was not, in fact, worthy of the title.

And they might have a start with this Allen Walker issue.

* * *

“Allen?” Altaïr's voice came, simply questioning, although Malik could see the trace of concern.

The young man however was smiling when he turned, shaking his head. “I'm not really used to being looked at. Just a day ago, it was a bad thing to attract too much attention.”

Malik felt his eyes narrow, a quick glance told him Altaïr felt the same. Certainly, a lot of their men would be curious, but not all might be looking with good intention. Quite a few people were going to watch for any mistake, either from Allen to blame Altaïr, or from Altaïr himself.

Allen's smile turned into a little grin. “Don't worry though, I am used to this.” He walked back to them, changing the subject. “Are you two working, though? Should I..?” He waved a hand to illustrate the idea of doing something else.

Altaïr shook his head. “I mentioned to Malik what you told me, but not in detail. I thought it would sound, ah, better coming from you.”

Malik, for his part, knew it had nothing to do with lack of understanding, since what Altaïr did say had been relayed well enough. He knew it was all about not taking away from Allen the control of sharing. “He told me you are from a different place that we first assumed? And then that where you are from, there's a special kind of weapon.”

Allen chuckled, noticing how Malik's eyes flickering to his left arm. He stepped closer, and removed his glove. He received a look that asked for permission, and he nodded, extending a bit his hand. Malik wrapped his hand around Allen's, almost startled to feel the warmth of it.

“Crown Clown, right?” Malik asked, and to his surprise, a pulse of warmth was the first to reply.

Allen laughed lightly. “Yes; and Timcanpy.” He added, tilting his head as the golem showed himself a bit, still within the hood; making Malik startle just a little bit.

“This is certainly interesting.” Malik commented, letting go of Allen's hand and stepping back.

Altaïr had soon gotten close himself, to the side of Malik and Allen. “I wondered, a weapon in your body… Is it magic too?”

Allen blinked, crossing his arms in a thoughtful manner. “I… am not sure? As far as I know, Innocence is said to be God's gift to humanity to fight evil, but whether or not it's holy magic...” He shrugged. “I would say the magic we have is elemental, I've seen at least fire and earth, but there's other kind, I've seen sealing magic, summoning magic, and I know necromancy exist. Though, I guess, the Ark is special, what it can do feels like magic, but I can't say for sure if it is.”

“Wait, hold on, God? Holy?” Malik looked incredulous, but deep down, he felt a weight. “Is there… Is it a known fact in your world? Is there only one religion?”

Allen breathed out a laugh, shaking his head, giving a smile that was amused, but in a sad manner. “No. Of course, those that know about Innocence takes it as proof of the Christian God. But it's not as if we truly know that much about Innocence, or how it all started.”

“You don't believe in the God you are said to carry the weapon of?” Altaïr asked.

Allen sighed, lowering his head. “I believe in Crown Clown, and in what only I can do. I can believe there's certainly a lot we don't know, and that a God can exist. I can't say I feel one way or another, however.”

There was something in Allen's eyes, so sad yet so… bitter, that told both older men enough. Allen had suffered, and maybe even, he had suffered from what was supposed to be the holy side. But nether felt comfortable pushing about this right now.

Malik was the first to think of something to direct the conversation elsewhere. “I do wish I could see your Crown Clown in action; but Altaïr mentioned you can't?”

Allen blinked, shook his head. “I'll have to wait a day or two before I can see if it is just exhaustion.”

This made Altaïr cut in. “You feel tired? Are you unwell?”

A smile formed, while Malik coughed into his hand, hiding the smirk at how quickly the Master Assassin had switched into concerned. Allen pretended not to notice while Altaïr sent a short glare.

“No, don't worry, I am fine. It can take a few days however to fully recover all my energy if it's been drained. I'm Crown's host, so if I'm lacking energy, it affects it.”

Allen knew when he said too much, Altaïr's eyes narrowed, sharp with intensity that made Allen squirm.

“Does it need your energy to be active?” _Does it drain you when you fight?_

Allen's cheeks flushed a bit, head ducking and lips nipped at. “Ah… Yes, it does. Not many Innocence are a part of the body, most are in fact like a sword, an external weapon. They're called Equipment Type, while Crown is called a Parasitic Type. Both can strain the body, but in the case of Parasitic, we share life energy.”

Altaïr's mouth became a thin like, and it was Malik who dared to ask, “What consequences does it have? Anything we need to know?”

Allen rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant. He stopped his hand, dropping it, when Altaïr moved closer. He took one glance up, took into the crossed arms and calm but intense look, and the words came out of his mouth.

“Sleep helps, but eating is what helps the most my energy. I can be more sluggish if I don't eat the equivalent of two normal meals through the day, and I wouldn't last as long as most people if I can't eat at all.” He paused, felt Altaïr's gaze still piercing him. “I… well, I can eat a lot. As long as I don't need to activate, it doesn't have to be high amount. If I don't have enough energy when I activate, or if I activate for a while and it drains the energy from food, I technically should either collapse or deactivate, but the situation is rarely one I can allow that, so… My literal life force is drained.”

Altaïr's fingers dug into his arms. “Does this mean you haven't eaten as much as you should earlier?” Before Allen could reply, he followed up with another question, in a tone much more softer, “Does this mean your life is reduced?”

Allen still had his eyes down, it made Malik's chest heavy, and while Altaïr showed nothing, that was precisely why Malik knew it affected the man.

“Like I said, as long as I don't need to activate, I ate enough. And as long as I eat enough when I know I might activate, it won't have such a direct impact. But… yes, those with Innocence like mine are said to have a shorter lifespan.” A huff left him, sad, his smile dry. “I don't think I've ever heard about anyone with Innocence dying of old age, though. We're more likely to die on the battlefield, so our exact lifespan isn't on our mind.”

“You really are a soldier, then.” Altaïr muttered, though all three heard. “A soldier of God.”

Allen looked up, a bit hesitant at first, unsure of what to expect. He seemed to see the conflict, the concern, in Altaïr's gaze, because he smiled, gentle. Yet, something fiery was in his eyes.

“It's one way of saying it, I guess. I am an Exorcist, an Accomodator for Innocence. From the moment Innocence chooses its Accomodator, you become part of the Holy War. Our enemies will find you and kill you, if the Order doesn't find you in time.”

“The Order?” Malik picked, his mind almost dizzy with what they were hearing. Holy War. It sounded like what they were facing with the Crusade, or even the Templars, and yet… Not quite.

“The Black Order, a secret organization created 100 years ago and under the command of the pope-the leader of the Christian Church. They are mostly formed by scientists, people who work on what can help us Exorcists, and Finders, people who aren't Accomodator but who help us locate Innocence. In addition, we have those that handle logistics, and a medical section.”

A concept crossed Altaïr's mind, as for now he ignored the part where the Order sounded similar to the Templars, in their origins and leadership. He voiced the thought. “Then, the fighters are the Exorcists, aren't they?”

Allen's smile seemed to grow even sadder. “We're the only one who can fight our enemies. But Innocence isn't quite easy to find, there is a limited number, some have already been destroyed. When I joined, we didn't even have more than twenty Exorcists.” He paused, a sombre expression on his face. “At present time, counting myself, we are a dozen.”

And with such low number, each lost Exorcist was a hard blow.

Malik could not stop comparing the number, and how Allen called it a war. A _Holy_ War. A war against what, though? He was not sure he wanted to hear the answer so soon, if the weapons Exorcists used had to be holy in nature.

Altaïr seemed to think the same, because after having been silent for a few short moments, he said, “Come, let's continue this in my room, with a plate of **food**.”

No, he had not forgotten that. And it was the easier aspect of all he had learned to deal with.

_To be continued..._


	11. Bonus chapter: First draft of Malik and Allen's talk

Hello~

Here you have another bonus chapter! I decided I would post them after the chapter they were initially from (since so far they are always scrapped first drafts), and this one is from chapter 6~ This is the initial way the talk with Malik went when Malik asked Allen his age, but I felt that while Allen is open to him and Altaïr, it felt too soon to speak about some things. Once I got to where this bonus finish, I thought, nah not working out, and cut it out to save as a bonus, and worked on it again (to end up with what you've read).

I have two more bonus, one for chapter 9 (so it will be posted in after the next update) and one for chapter 17 (which, is a bonus I think you might all love); unless I decide to adjust a chapter before posting it and end up with a bonus from a chapter between 10 and 17.

Hope you like this one!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Bonus chapter: First draft of Malik and Allen's talk _

“How old are you, Allen?”

At the question, Allen blinked, then shrugged. “Nineteen and a few months, I think.”

“You think?” Malik repeated, a bit confused.

Allen glanced down again. “I don't recall much before I was around seven, I knew I was five when I,” He hesitated, taking a breath then continued, “When I was taken in by an orphanage, but then I am not sure how long I stayed, how long I-how long I was on my own before the circus. Only estimating based on seasons.”

Malik pursed his lips, allowing Allen to grow silent. Then, in a quiet voice, “Was it in the circus that you learned?”

Allen seemed confused for a moment, then made a small, “Oh.” His lips lifted at the corner, but the smile was weak. “No, I can't say I even learned circus tricks for a while, I was doing small jobs.” He lifted his left arm. “It was paralysed from the elbow down for a good part of my childhood.” He dropped it again, resting his hand on the wall. His gaze grew distant, but this time, it was fond, full of love and warmth-and nostalgia. “I was adopted, and we left together. He taught me a lot of tricks, even with a paralysed arm.”

Malik looked forward too, commenting, not asking, “He died, didn't he?”

Allen swallowed. “Yeah… And not even a week after, a man showed up, and offered to train me. He taught me all I know,” He smiled, but the nostalgia had not left, somehow stronger, and Malik's heart dropped.

_Don't tell me this man too…_

“He was a true devil, that man. Made me do all sorts of jobs to pay his debts,” he shuddered, continuing quickly as if to not linger, “And got me into a routine to train my stamina, strength and agility. He would shoot at me and I better dodge, and then he threw me in the middle of battles.” He was grinning, his long suffering sigh not quite hiding a certain fondness. “Battle trained, in the literal sense. I was so grateful for the circus tricks I had, it saved my back so many times until I picked up instincts. According to him, I had good ones, so I should be able to develop them, as long as I didn't die first. _Bastard_.”

The last word was not said in Arabic, Malik realized, but the English they knew already had the word, and the man laughed.


	12. Chapter 9

Hello!

Welcome to the next chapter~ This is another talk between Allen, Altaïr and Malik; and if you wonder about it, I am totally thinking too that Altaïr and Malik are using meals to get the opportunity to know more about Allen. Some of their reasons show here, namely, they feel a pull, and want to know about him. It's never stated, but I also believe they want all the infos they can, possibly from their training as Assassins.

Not all is covered here, but we get to see Allen explain about what he fights~ And then Altaïr makes an offer he won't take no for (which isn't the first offer he gives, but he clearly states in his thoughts that he knows Allen will say no; I'm speaking of the offer by the end of the chapter). It's also fun to see some parallels between the Brotherhood, the Order, the Templars and the Noahs. None are quite like the others, only one actually wants to end humanity, and three aim for peace, all three with different methods. Except some views and ideals kind of are similar. And it's really fun playing with it all.

It might be talk, by the way, but it puts down an important little detail, another reason Allen is staying you might say~

Also: speaking from what I've written so far, I think the Altaïr/Allen is pretty much sure to happen. I'm still wondering if it'll just be implicit, but I think those two won't quite settle for that. You have no idea how many times I had to pause and wave my finger like, no jumpy each other damn it, I'm trying to make it slow. So, yeah, I've adjusted the tags on AO3, and I think most of you here knew it was highly likely, still just warning you all that, while I'm doing my best not to rush it, I see it coming. Not here yet, but, ahem, got very close in chapter 17 (hence why I have a bonus for it~).

On another note; I do have plans, as in, I have quite a few plot events planned, some are lowkey hinted through the chapters, some are probably to hit full force without warning. I still love to hear your suggestions or thoughts, as even if I have written in advance, I can adjust, or prepare for later! Thank you a lot to all the kudos and follows, they make so happy, and thank you for the comments; makes me so very happy and often push my inspiration!

I hope you enjoy today's chapter; and in case you didn't see: there is a bonus coming in the next few days!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 9 _

Allen felt amused as they found themselves in a situation similar to earlier today, all three of them and a plate of food, although this time, while Altaïr pretended it was a snack for all of them, once they were alone the way he stared pointedly between Allen and the food told him he better eat it all. Not that Allen complained, if there was one thing he could not refuse, it was food.

So, while Timcanpy darted from the fold of the clothes and snagged a bite for himself, Allen started to eat the rest, and proceeded to astonish Altaïr and Malik because, for lack of better words, he annihilated the plate of food in less than five minutes.

Malik almost asked where did all the food go, but the conversation they just had played in his mind and his lips thinned. _It goes in making sure you don't get drained of your life more than you should, doesn't it?_ He hated that thought. He hated to think of those Exorcists whose life changed the moment they discovered they were Accomodators. Allen had not said it outloud, but the message had been clear.

Exorcists did not have a choice. The day they discovered they are capable of being one, they had to be one. And they were the front line, those that went at the heart of the battles. And still, he did not know what they were fighting against. God's gift to fight humanity, Allen had said. But then, what was this evil?

The same thoughts were in Altaïr's mind, but deeper, when he looked at Allen's sheepish expression, his grateful smile as he said thank you in a soft voice, his hands clenched. _I don't want him to go back_ , Altaïr thought, unbidden. _I want him to stay and be safe._

But he knew it, when he watched Allen spoke, he saw it; there was a certain pride, no, a sense of duty that ran deep within Allen. It made him wonder about it, about Allen's own wishes. The young man had been open with them, and Altaïr wanted to know more, to know all he dared to ask.

“Allen… Did you choose to be an Exorcist?”

Allen half froze for a moment, blinking, Timcanpy settling on the top of his head. Then Allen smiled, and in what seemed to be a not quite conscious gesture, he lifted his left hand, covering his left eye with the lightest touch.

“I did. Crown Clown activated for the first time to save me from what we fight. When Cross explained to me what it had been, and what I possessed; when I saw what it could do, I knew what I wanted to do.” Something immensely sad crossed his face. “I had a sin to repent, and eventually, I realized it was not about repentance, but about salvation. I am the only one who can save those used by our enemies. I thought-I was cursed to see the truth behind it, but in the end, it is what allows me to see the ones that need to be saved.”

His hand dropped, and Altaïr felt something warm and fond swell in his chest at how much steel, how much determination existed in those sad, sad eyes. Before he knew it, the words of the Creed left him, “Nothing is true, everything is permitted _.”_

Malik sent him a look, except, it was one of understanding, and Allen looked confused, if curious.

Altaïr allowed the smile to form. “They are our Creed.” His smile dropped, he found himself tilting his head, shadowing his eyes, a subtle way of not meeting Allen's eyes. But faced with Allen's own determination, Altaïr desired for Allen to see, to know who they were. “They ask us to be wise. To question and let people question, because nothing is true, which is why we cannot allow those that try to prevent freewill, to impose only one truth. But we act knowing the consequences, we seek proofs and we know the value of life, so that when the time comes, everything is permitted.” He paused, then added, “It took me time to understand this fully.”

Malik eyed Altaïr, glancing at Allen. He had not been blind to how Allen unconsciously trusted them, placed his safety in their hand, but now Malik realized… It was not just Allen. Altaïr had mentioned he had used his Eagle Vision on Allen before, more than once, and now Malik saw it, that whatever the sight showed Altaïr, it made the forming bond two-way.

Would it have saved Kadar, if Altaïr had met Allen before the temple? Or would this Altaïr only clash with Allen?

Malik internally scolded himself. What ifs would not bring Kadar back, and he could be glad that Allen met Altaïr now.

Allen stared longly at Altaïr, who tilted his head up, meeting his gaze. Altaïr, like Allen, showed a belief in what he did, who he was, yet there was also the smallest hint of something hesitant, waiting. Allen could guess why.

He had not forgotten either, that Altaïr was an assassin, leading a whole order of those. Still… The ideals, the way of seeing the world, it was not so different. He would rather it didn't mean the choice was to kill, but he realized that while he disliked the idea, he held no negative feelings toward Altaïr and Malik themselves.

Such a complicated sentiment, but hadn't he grown used to those lately? At least Altaïr and his order meant to protect the people, not destroy the world. If he had mixed feelings about some of the Noahs, then he could not be surprised he was more inclined to feel positive about Altaïr.

“These are noble views. How was it that you said? You act in the dark to serve the light? Is it a choice, then?”

It was almost a loaded question, but Altaïr could see Allen didn't mean it as such. “No one is forced to be, or remain, an Assassin if they do not wish to. There have been those that join, and a lot of them have reasons for it, rarely happy memories. There are those that are born from Assassins. We train them for their own protection at least, though not quite Assassin training, but it has to be a choice, to take the path of Assassins.” He paused, admitting, “The fact they grow in an Assassin's family, though, tends to stir them toward this path. Generally because they know why their parents fight, they know the Creed.”

The corner of Allen's lips lifted. “So it is not quite choosing, but always going in with the knowledge of what they will be doing, right?”

Altaïr inclined his head. “Of course. Some don't fully understand, but facing their first kill, or a few, make them do so; and that is when some do change course.” He waved a hand around the room. “We do need guards, and Masyaf is under our protection.” _There is plenty to do while still being here._

Allen hummed in understanding. “Does this mean… you think the Black Order sound like your own Order?” _Did I sound like an Assassin?_

Altaïr's eyes flashed, showing he perceived the hidden question. “Ideals seem to be similar, but the methods different, although they don't oppose each other. You speak of battles, but what do you fight?”

This had been the question that had been burning in Malik's mind, and it didn't surprise him that Altaïr wanted to know, too. Maybe it was another world, maybe all they truly needed to know was what to expect of Allen himself until they brought him back, but wasn't it why they felt a need to learn more?

They liked Allen, he was a good person. So of course, they wanted to know where they were sending back.

Allen's expression shifted, sad and sombre. It had been obvious, to both Assassins, that the younger male had been delaying that particular topic. “We call them Akuma, which would translate as demons.” He was quick to continue, seeing their slightly wider eyes. “They are created from a metal skeleton and the soul of the deads, brought back by a loved one's grief. Their Maker finds tragedies, those that are grieving, and offer to bring their loved ones back.”

Something changed in Allen's eyes, almost distant, and Altaïr flickered his focus to the red mark, his mind starting to piece the puzzle, especially with how Timcanpy petted Allen's hairs subtly.

Malik's thoughtful frown told him his right hand was doing the same.

“The loved one just need to call their name, and the soul is called back, chained to the skeleton. The suffering of the soul is what powers the Akuma.” He paused, sighing to release tension, eyes closing. “Then the Maker orders them to kill the one who brought them back, and wear their skin to pass as human.”

Malik grimaced, shuddering. Altaïr's frame tensed, rigid, nostrils flaring. They did not comment, letting Allen finish, because they saw it, there was more to it.

“Akumas grows as they kill, they start as nothing more than weapons, sentient yes but blindly following orders. Then they can evolve, becoming stronger, have a consciousness and develop unique abilities. The more they evolved, the more the souls is… tainted. Only Innocence will free to soul.”

After a few beat of silence, Altaïr's asked, face down and hidden by his hood, “And this Maker? Does he have any goal, other than create them?”

Allen smiled, sad. “The Millennium Earl wants to end humanity as a whole. The Akumas are his tools for this.”

Malik cursed in his mind. Wars and conflicts were not unfamiliar to them; but a war with the literal whole world at stake? Don't get him started on wrapping his head around the Akumas, his mind was giving morbid images and he feared they might be true.

Altaïr stared at Allen from under his hood, amber eyes sharp, the lines of his mouth thin. Inside, his chest bubbled with emotions. Rest in peace, that was what Assassins wished upon their victims, for once their blade found them, they had paid for the sins of their life. Their methods, even newer ones Altaïr had been thinking about, were centred around swift death. So it angered him, to think about those dead being forced to come back, to suffer until an Exorcist was able to free them.

And then, it angered him even more, made his stomach twist, to think about Allen and his fellow Exorcists, having at best a dubious choice. The way Allen had spoken, there had been no mention of the Exorcist choosing their Innocence. It was the other way around, and it left not much choice, only to find reasons to give you strength. They did not even have the freedom to do something else than fight, did they?

That was the world Allen would go back to. That was where Allen wanted to go back to, a fight he had chosen, but how much choice did he have? Was this master of his ready to keep him off the war if Allen said no? The fact Allen had seen the souls and chosen to save them, Altaïr respected it. He just did not know whether it would have been better if Allen never saw, never had to know about the war.

But Allen had, and he had a resolve as strong as steel. Yet, still, Altaïr needed to know, wanted to see. “You could stay here.”

The words were simple, but the meaning soon obvious, making Malik snap his gaze at him, staring, while Allen widened his own. The young man looked into Altaïr's eyes, searching, and there, Altaïr saw it, the flash of fond sadness that meant it was an option he wished he had.

But he replied, “I could, but I won't,” and Altaïr expected it.

The Mentor inclined his head, lips forming a smile at the corner. “You want to save these souls.” Allen nodded silently. Altaïr looked back up, smile shifting into a little smirk. “Your cause is noble, and your heart good. I would do the same, in your situation. This is why I would like to train you, teach you what I can, as we work on your way back.”

_Let me give you all the tools I can for your own fight._

Surprise washed over Malik, yet, he could not stop the small pride that formed in his chest, the deep approval he felt.

Allen stared for a moment, unaware of Timcanpy's grin directed at Altaïr, and then both men watched with a mix of amusement and fondness, and maybe a form of awe, as Allen's cheeks reddened slowly but surely, gaze lowering in obvious shyness but not fast enough to prevent them from seeing the flash of _touched_ in Allen's eyes.

Still, they felt not much surprise as Allen started to try denying the offer. “I… You are doing so much already, and I'm not-”

He was stopped because Altaïr moved closer, catching the hand that had waved around, curling his fingers around Allen's palm. “We do not know how long you might need to stay. But you don't have to leave as soon as you can, either. You are on the run, aren't you?”

Surprised then resignation and sadness showed in the gaze that flickered upward. “I-Yes. From… from everyone I know.” He admitted, quietly and glancing down again. “That doesn't mean I should-”

Altaïr's fingers squeezed Allen's palm, but not harshly. “On the contrary, Allen. You are safe here, and you can take time to learn anything you can. Take it as mutual benefice; you will learn what I can teach, and in turn I have another strong warrior within these walls. One that has a way of fighting different from yours, but no less effective. You can show me too, give me enough to strengthen my men.”

Malik knew the moment Altaïr had completely gotten Allen under his charisma. Not that Allen truly had any unwillingness, it had been painfully obvious it was a matter of not imposing, which of course meant it had only made Altaïr so much more stubborn.

And of course, the Mentor had known then, to use the mutually beneficial argument. But what made Malik's heart feel all soft and warm again was that it had not been what had convinced Allen, because Allen had been giving in before.

He had given in the moment Altaïr declared with such certainty, _you are safe_.

Allen, for all he had the maturity of someone who had seen his fair share of suffering, was also still a young man, barely starting adulthood, one who had not just seen but experienced pain, and who deep down only wished to be safe and protected.

Altaïr must have seen that from early on, perhaps when Allen first woke up, and this Altaïr, who had grown from the hunt of the Nine and from Al Mualim's betrayal, from wanting to strengthen and protect the Brotherhood; this Altaïr could not turn away someone who in their eyes was still an innocent, someone who needed protection, and yet who was so close to what assassins were, what they believed in.

Allen was all too painfully similar to Altaïr, more so that all of them could know: marked by the death of their fathers, marked by a cause they devoted their life to, marked by their own side troubling them and causing growth.

And Allen was someone who needed a fair deal of warmth too, needed people who would treat him positively.

Malik hadn't thought himself one to fall into this, but Allen had this air that just lulled him in, that made him want to be someone that would soothe the pain that would sometimes show, when Allen wasn't keeping a mask over his emotions.

No doubt that Altaïr had gotten the same pull, although… Malik felt it was also different.

All thoughts left him when Allen, who had been looking up at Altaïr, meeting his stare, finally let a shy but warm smile form.

“Then I would like that. Please teach me, and I will show you what I can, Mentor.”

The emphasis on the last word, coupled with the tiny grin, made Altaïr stare for a moment longer, and Malik snorted.

_You just doomed yourself, oh wise Mentor._

_To be continued…_

Note: Allen's attempt to refuse doesn't have the worry of hurting others because Altaïr already made clear before that Altaïr is going to help him with it, and so implicitly, is not condemning it for it, but also, still want him here and won't let him go. Don't worry though, the matter of the Fourteenth is still a matter addressed sooner or later. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	13. Bonus Chapter: Removed part of Chapter 9

Hello~

Story time: this is named in my files “original Akuma continuing in Noah mention” which showed me it's a removed part from chapter 9. The first sentence confirms it (as Malik is reaction to when Allen says the Earl wants to end all of humanity; I added the sentence in italics to show it properly).

And then I see Allen saying he mentioned the scientists and Finders; which… he didn't do in Chapter 9. I do have chapters in advance, but I write in a linear way, so Chapter 9 is the place that has the Akuma talk part. I got confused as hell thinking this.

And then my mind finally caught up to me. I checked before chapter 9; and lo and behold, he does mention them in Chapter 8. For half an hour however, I was convinced this bonus deserved to be called ghost removed part for the sheer confusion I got on my own.

Anyway: this was removed because I felt it revealed too much too soon, and the wording just felt awkward to me. I also debated if it was enough for a bonus, as it isn't as fun as the first and not quite as showing feels as the second; but between the fun story about it and the tiny hint of feels at the end when Allen says there are thirteenth Noah in total then looks down; I shrugged and decided to share.

Enjoy~

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Bonus chapter: Removed part from chapter 9 _

_Start after: Allen smiled, sad. “The Millennium Earl wants to end humanity as a whole. The Akumas are his tools for this.”_

Malik cursed in his mind. This Holy War of Allen, it was for the whole world? “Hold on-If he creates Akumas from anyone who grieves enough, and you are a dozen Exorcists-” He stopped short, watching how more sadness showed in those silver eyes.

“As I have said, we do have scientists and Finders helping us, especially to try finding more Innocence. Our Generals travel the world to find Accomodators. But… yes, we the Exorcists are the only one can truly fight the Akumas. Our Chief, Komui, is in charge of dispatching us in the number and place that works best.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot. “Most of us now can deal with the level ones, and level twos aren't too much of a problem, as long as we are careful. Levels three and four, however… They need at least two Exorcists, and so far, level four have needed Generals or at least two of the strongest Exorcists.” He shook his head. “They aren't the most dangerous threat we can face, though.”

Malik made a sound. “This Earl?”

Allen breathed out a sigh. “He rarely attacks us himself. But he has his own clan, the Noahs. They are, well, superhumans you can say. Innocence is the sole thing that can truly injure them, otherwise they heal, but even then, it's not easy to hurt them. Only one Noah has been killed since they showed themselves to us, the one who did it is one of our strongest Exorcist, and he could have died, his Innocence got broken and needed to be repaired. There are thirteen Noah in total, counting the Earl.” He paused, brows furrowing, his gaze dropping.

Altaïr didn't say anything at first, watching Allen, a calm neutrality that hide what he might be feeling, but telling Malik that the man was indeed feeling.


	14. Chapter 10

Hello!

As this kind of late chapter betrays, I might have forgotten that yesterday (for me) was Wednesday which meant a new chapter to post. At least, I recalled today.

Here we have a little insight chapter I would say, I really love how this all came out, so look forward to: Allen's thoughts about the assassins, meeting the OC that will be recurrent, Altaïr's thoughts, and Allen&Altaïr being cute. Also: Allen is clever with getting Altaïr where he wants, all in good intents; and Altaïr not blind to it. After a bit. He doesn't mind.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 10 _

The wind breezed through Allen's white hairs as his silver eyes watched people move, train, patrol. He had found himself back outside, Altaïr had needed to focus on what was his work as Mentor, and as Malik reminded Allen, the young man did need to take it easy still. The one armed man had then suggested he could watch the training master with the recruits, to get an idea of a few things.

Allen didn't know it was also because the training master, Rauf, was loyal to Altaïr, and would keep an eye on Allen, maybe to assess the young man a bit, but above all to make sure he would not be bothered.

Watching the training amazed Allen, this was similar yet different to the sparring and training he was used to, both from the different era this world was in, and the skills strengthened. Sometimes, he would see the obvious way something was trained for the kill, and it made an odd mix of feeling stir.

He didn't like the idea that assassination was an option, and the way chosen by all these people. But at the same time, could he deny that even in his world, at different eras, battles and death existed? Now, assassins were another matter, not accidental; but it was soothed by the morals, the rules they had.

No, Allen was not one to kill humans, his own Innocence had evolved with the means to fight the Noahs without killing, and there was still the worry he would be forced to, but as long as he could, and he would damn well make sure he could; he would not kill humans. He wanted to say he killed no one, but…

He had never quite forgotten Akumas like Eliade, or Mimi, so human in their emotions. Akumas needed to be stopped, the souls released, but how much of the actual Akuma was its own being? If there wasn't a soul attached, would he even be able to slay them? Certainly, he would protect humans, protect all those the Akumas hurt, but…

These were questions that he could not afford to think about too much, yet they still existed. He was not an assassin, but he could not deny the way he had been called a soldier, and the line between both could be thin.

Still, what remained true at its core was that he fought for the Akumas and humans alike. And maybe… maybe being here, around these people, taught by Altaïr, maybe it would help him.

A shadow fell on his legs, making Allen blink before he quickly looked to the side, realizing a few trainees taking a break had come to rest close by, and one had approached, curious and that small bit awkward. Allen offered a smile, which seemed to soothe the other.

“Hello, Allen right? I'm Hakim.” The man introduced himself, although Allen realized he wasn't that much older than Allen himself, probably 21 or 22.

“Nice to meet you, Hakim,” Allen nodded, smile a little softer, especially at the way Hakim's eyes seemed to lit up. A social one then, and possibly relatively new.

“Pardon me but… Some of us heard something about your training? Are you...” Hakim started to ask, trailing off, and Allen took mercy.

“Ah, not quite?” Allen scratched his cheek with a finger. “The Apple took me far away from my own battles, in truth. I can't pledge myself to a new one. However, it seems our ideals are very similar. Master Altaïr decided I had skills he could learn and make use of, and in return I am unofficially part of the fighting force if necessary, which is why he wants me trained, until I need to go back.”

Altaïr and Malik had warned him to be careful of not revealing certain things, especially the truth about dimensions or the difference in era, or his Innocence; but Allen knew well how to speak truthfully yet still hide things. They had discussed what he could say, how he could; and then, they simply trusted Allen to do what was best.

Hakim seemed surprised, but now he was smiling easily. Allen pretended he didn't notice the rest of the other recruits that must be Hakim's friends slowly drift closer, no doubt hearing them now. “I see… Well I can't say I am too surprised that you have your own fight.” He grinned. “We saw you spar with the Mentor earlier.”

Allen rubbed the back of his neck. “It was more of a testing, though. I am not sure I would have even lasted more than a few seconds if it had been anything but basics attack-and-defence turns.”

It was another of the group that laughed lightly. “Maybe so, but not many can even do what you did for these.”

And then another butted in, as if they had lost all pretence. “You do have a fighting style that feels different, though. Is it from where you come from?” A pause, then, “You come from where? Not around these parts, obviously.”

Allen chuckled, something warm and fond in his chest. He knew not all were quite open to his presence, but it felt nice, to see some almost welcome him, simply curious. “I'm from England, although I've travelled through a few European countries.”

A sudden chill down his spine and what felt like a snarl from Crown Clown made Allen react. He jumped off from the small wall he had been sitting on, turning while taking a few steps back. A knife hit where he had been a second before, though Allen noticed that it had been aimed to scare him and not injure him, likely to graze him lightly or pin his clothing.

Crown was still rather unhappy though, and Allen shifted his gaze to where it was directing the wave of protective annoyance. The culprit seemed a bit startled, both from how Allen had avoided the knife, and how he spotted them. Or maybe it had to do with the sharp call from the training master, who heard the surprised little yells of Hakim and his friends.

Allen recognized the man, though. Hadn't he been around this Abbas before? And one of the men who had not looked too happy about Altaïr's decision. Allen made sense of Crown's still protective anger, then.

His Innocence liked Altaïr, for how he had treated Allen, and so, it was not just disgruntled with how they attacked Allen, no matter the intent. It was also sensing this man was someone who did not have good feelings toward Altaïr.

Allen watched the training master, who had went to the man, reprimand him. Allen's eyes were on the man though, gaze almost deadpan, then brought his attention to Hakim, who had put a hand on his shoulder and inquired with worry if he was fine.

Allen smiled. “Of course. This wasn't meant to hurt me, anyway.” He gave a little grin, lowering his voice with mischief in it. “I'm almost sad he didn't try to do something up close, I could have thrown him.”

Hakim laughed, his friends snickered, but when Allen glanced backward, past the training master who was now approaching him, he met the man's glare with his own.

Allen didn't care about that attempt. Hell, Lavi himself would have been the kind to prank him in similar manner, maybe not with something sharp, but certainty startlement. Don't get him started on Kanda's willingness to poke with Mugen anyone who bothered him enough. However, what Allen disliked was the knowledge it was not so much about Allen himself, but about Altaïr's decisions.

The Mentor might have chosen to give Allen a safe place, to implicitly protect him; but that did not mean it was a one-way deal.

And if there was one thing that motivated Allen quite well, it was to be the protector. The destroyer who saved, wasn't he?

“I apologize for Nasim's behaviour.” The training maser told Allen, eyes quickly checking that the knife had really not touched Allen. “That was good reflexes, which I am happy you have.” The man smiled. “I look forward to when you can train with us.” He then extended his hand. “I'm Rauf.”

Allen returned the smile, and shook hand with Rauf. “Allen, although I think everyone knows.” He joked, widening the training master's smile.

Then the man returned to the recruits, Allen sat back on the wall as Hakim and his friends got back to training; and Nasim had left, but not without last looks toward the interactions.

Not without feeling bothered again by the way Allen glanced at him, silver eyes showing nothing, yet still enough to make the man know he should warn Abbas.

_You were right, Abbas. This boy will be troubles._

* * *

 

Altaïr stretched his legs out and his arms up, sighing in relief. Malik had left by now, leaving the Mentor to work out a few more things. The situation in Masyaf was decent, the one through the Holy Land was not bad, but certainly in need of watch. In Acre's especially, it seemed the Templars still had a solid influence in its port.

They were also like shadows now, at first forced to slow down, halt almost, from the loss of their Grandmaster, Robert de Sablé. But the Templars were still around, still mixed within the Crusaders, and had gotten the idea of not being as open as to what they were doing.

It was forcing Altaïr to call for more discreet missions when it concerned them, but also to be careful for all others too, unsure of who could report to the Templar. Besides, the time of striking in broad daylight, sending a message and being recognized so easily, it might be one that needed to change.

He glanced down at the rough sketch of new methods they could use, including poison. Theirs was a way that did not bring needless suffering, but many poisons could work fast. But these were changes his Brothers were not fond of.

And then… There was Allen. Altaïr had already seen one, two little things that could provide helpful for Assassins to learn. But it was not just in terms of skills, of fighting. The man was not blind, not to his own self, even less since he learned the hard way that if he allowed himself to not question certain things, he could be used.

Allen had a charm that he seemed unaware of, one that Altaïr could only associate with the light of the sun. It was sometimes blinding in its intensity, and at other times it was warm, gentle. You felt like looking away, but you also wanted to feel it, keep it in sight. You felt refreshed. And sometimes, you felt like listening, watching; as if Allen was a guide, not one who preached, but simply one whose presence you would focus on, willingly or not.

Allen was like the brightest glow of the sun before it set. And the imagery both softened Altaïr's heart and hardened the lines of his mouth.

A rational part of his mind wondered how much of his concerns should this other world of Allen's be. The Assassins were sworn to freedom, to peace; they asked of themselves to learn to be wise, to question everything and to not accept single truths.

And so, should he accept that this second world was now part of his own? Now that he knew of it, that he knew he had never questioned before the existence of other worlds, how much should he wonder?

The replies to these questions could have immense consequences. If he, as the Mentor of the Assassins, decided that this other world deserved to have its own Assassin's Order, an organization to serve from the darkness this other world…

Altaïr rubbed his temples. Never would he have guessed that he would not only have to handle rebuilding their Order, but also that he would need to consider a whole other world too. He had already been thinking about how to expand their influence, bring more Bureaus to more cities, more lands. But that… was quite the influence he would aim to reach.

And once more, how much rights did he have? This was not a question any man would think to ever ponder. Altaïr had voiced the idea to Malik, but the man too seemed uncertain. Like Altaïr, Malik wavered between both arguments, between the feeling that now that they knew, they could not turn a blind eye to a whole world of people who they did not know if they had anything like the Assassins; and between the feeling that it was not the same as faraway lands.

Should Altaïr ask Allen, then? But would the young man be able to think about it without being influenced by his dislike of kills? In logical ways, Allen seemed someone who could think objectively. Yet… Maybe it would better to only ask if Altaïr himself had a better grip on how he felt about it.

What Altaïr did know, though, was that Allen needed to stay for now, for enough time to figure out some things. And, maybe, so Altaïr could learn as much as he could from Allen, and teach Allen himself.

The mental image of the Apple flickered in his mind, the stray thought that it might provide answers. Not just about Allen, but also many things. It had already planted in his mind a map that showed places that as far as people know did not exist, or had not discovered, since there was so much water between them. It had planted unfinished ideas for how to improve the hidden blade, for other weapons.

How much could he allow himself to seek its knowledge? How could he protect his mind from its influence?

How could he make sure it would not affect Allen himself?

Altaïr breathed out a laugh. _Seems like I need you and your opinions, now that you entered my life…_ He mused, sighing. He should feel disconcerted, and in some ways he did; but it was still so close to how unsettling it had been to discover Al Mualim's intents, how the past few months had changed his life, and his own self, the arrogance and certainty of his ways weakened and carved anew as he started to truly ponder.

So what was another element that was different, new, bringing changes? What was another element that left him curious and questioning like he had rarely been?

Lips twitched, lifting at the corner; amber eyes unknowingly burning.

Allen was a mystery, a bundle of questions and wonders, to unravel and understand; almost shadowing the Apple. Certainly, Allen was an interest to take better than the Apple; and maybe it was all for the better, the Apple could be a tool but not a goal.

Maybe Allen could even teach him how to protect his mind. Hadn't he mentioned it had been easy, in relative ways, to do?

A flare of dark anger burned his chest, and with it a twist of worry. Altaïr needed to know more about this entity, this second person that threatened Allen's mind. That was one threat that he could not ignore, though not so much the one for his Brothers. The most important was to keep an eye on the threat for Allen, because if Altaïr made sure to protect Allen, it would protect his Brothers too.

But the other way around would not protect Allen; and who knew if it would even truly keep his Brothers safe? He was still protecting the Brotherhood, more so if it became true that this other world needed them. Allen would be their sole link toward it.

Altaïr blinked as something golden entered his line of sight. He had barely a second to recognize Timcanpy before the little being happened to press himself to Altaïr's face, covering it. The man made a sound of surprise that he would deny was anywhere close to a squeak, leaning back in his chair in a quick movement, one hand lifting to grab the small menace.

“Tim!” came the sharp, if amused, call; and Allen's hand grabbed Timcanpy first.

Altaïr's hand covered Allen's in the next moment, and both paused in their movements from the contact, the smooth and warm skin telling Altaïr it was the left hand, ungloved. Then Altaïr dropped his hand, and Allen moved Timcanpy off his face, the golem not resisting but very much grinning; which revealed Allen's sheepish smile and blushing cheeks.

“Sorry, you seemed very thoughtful and I might have mentioned something about bringing you back.” He lowered his gaze, one finger of each hand busy stretching Timcanpy's mouth and body, which the golem seemed all too happy about. “Didn't think this little menace would go for it.”

“You were thinking of smacking my face?” Altaïr asked, lifting eyebrows, expression showing nothing of the amusement, and mischief, he felt.

As predicted, Allen widened his eyes a bit, letting go of Timcanpy to wave his hands. “No! Of course not- _Tim_.”

Altaïr snorted, both from the long suffering tone Allen's voice had change into at the last word, and the golem that now act as a munching-happy hat. “How do you even still have hairs?” He found himself commenting, the tease in his voice not hidden anymore.

Allen pouted his way, crossing his arms. “The true miracle, I guess.” He replied, too deadpan to be anything but teasing back. Something in his expression shifted, eyes more watchful. “You should take a break. You've been in there since I left, and since Malik left.”

Altaïr stared at Allen, the young man squirming a bit under that look, but keeping his own gaze on him, little frown of concern showing. The Mentor noticed the way Allen also looked around briefly, no doubt taking into the few documents and notes across his desk.

Something incredibly soft and nostalgic appeared when Allen smiled. “Is it common to all leaders to have so many papers?” He teased, then, he chuckled and shook his head. “Although… I don't think anyone can avoid their papers as much as Komui would.”

Altaïr leaned back against his chair, a curious glint in his eyes. “Your leader?” His gaze flickered to the various papers on his desk. “I can't say I'd blame anyone who would rather not to these.”

Allen snorted, then leaned against the desk, mostly facing Altaïr. “Komui is the Chief of our Headquarters. He's, for the most part, the one who leads us. He has people above him, but unless they're giving orders to our Generals, they leave the handling to Komui.” His lips twitched. “His second in command, Reever, is the lead for the scientists, and also the one who is always trying to get Komui do work on his papers.” The young man let out a long suffering sigh. “I was almost stabbed by another Exorcist because Komui hadn't seen the letter Shishou had send them to tell of my arrival.”

Altaïr noticed the fondness in which Allen was talking of Komui, and it made something deep within long for it, long for his own Brothers to be able to feel in such a way, or at least, in a positive way. But for that… He had to prove himself, didn't he?

“He sounds like quite the character, your Komui.” Altaïr commented. “But I'm assuming this tendency of his doesn't stop him from being a good leader?”

Allen's smile was warm. “I don't think he's much older than you, and it was a few years ago that he became the Head Chief. He joined as a scientist, from what I heard, and climbed his way up.” His voice lowered, something both sad and angry, almost troubled in his eyes. “He wanted to be by his sister's side. I never fully heard the whole thing, but I've seen Lenalee around the ones from Central… They took her away when she was discovered as Accomodator, kept her by force, and it was only when Komui became the Head Chief that he was able to protect her and help her. It's not just her, he always does his best to look out for us.”

Altaïr could understand now, why Allen showed such fondness for the man. If he was not wrong, he could see that to Allen, this Komui was like a brother too. And Allen told him that Komui was not much older than him, no, that he was maybe even a bit younger when he took the position of, for all intents and purposes, a leader.

It was reassuring, if the assassin was honest, and then he realized that Komui had been motivated that his love for his sister. Then, if Altaïr truly wanted the best for his Brothers, if it was a form of love, not just of duty, would it give him the strength to bring the Order to greatness?

There was a little smile at the corner of Allen's mouth, and Altaïr narrowed his eyes, hit by a thought all of the sudden. When the white haired looked away, tried to appear innocent, he only confirmed his suspicion.

“Have you been distracting me from my work?” _And have you been looking to cheer me up?_

Allen shrugged, sheepish but not apologetic at all. “Someone has to; it's good that you're serious about it, but it will mean nothing if you overdo it. Besides, you weren't focusing anymore when I arrived. You looked like you had a headache just waiting to hit, and too many thoughts.”

Altaïr crossed his arms, watching Allen just long enough to make him squirm again. “You do realize I'm the Mentor here, and you are scolding me?”

Allen's eyes widened, and took an innocent edge, all puppy like. “Well, I can look out for the Mentor, right?” His voice had lowered through the words, almost a small, hesitant wisher by the end, and Altaïr swore he could see imaginary ears lower.

 _Ugh, he is the true menace,_ Altaïr thought, as he stood up from his chair, sighing. “Fine; stop giving me that look.”

Allen's expression switched into a blinding smile, eyes sparkling. “It's almost dinner time, we could get Malik and eat outside. You two have been inside for hours.”

Altaïr allowed a small smirk to form. “Was it dinner you were aiming for all this time?”

Allen just grinned innocently. “Well, food is always nice when you're taking a break.”

Altaïr did not reply, only shook his head, but he allowed the intent, enjoying a little the happy smile of Allen as they walked out the room to find Malik.

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 11

Hello~

It seems Altaïr and Malik have found a little trick to get Allen more comfortable and more open, which, of course, is to dine with him. Allen is not blind to it, but willing to share informations since they already know a few things. You will notice though, while Allen explain some things, he doesn't go in detail. Never does he speak of the exact skills everyone has, not even his own, for example.

And of course, it makes Allen feel more open to them and attached, which is probably what those two are looking for, more than the informations themselves. But I want to say, I feel like Allen himself is testing, seeing how they react, and from the reactions, feel more comfortable.

As it happens, Allen is kind of inspiring to those two. Malik is very glad that Altaïr not focusing on the Apple, and Altaïr can't help comparing Allen's strength full of love with Al Mualim's teachings that denied they could mix love into their work.

All in all, a talk chapter, but that's why it's a bonding moment. Enjoy~

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 11 _

Malik tried to resist, but the moment Allen looked at him with hopeful, innocent eyes; how could he say no to dinner with him and Altaïr? The little demon had managed to drag Altaïr from his office though, so Malik should have known he would not escape himself.

Then again, sharing a dinner with the young man was not unpleasant, so Malik would not complain. Besides, he admitted to himself that he enjoyed the way Allen affected Altaïr. If he was honest, Malik felt that somewhere, somehow, those two were similar. They at least shared values, and then something in Allen called all the right parts of Altaïr.

The fact it diverted Altaïr's attention from the Apple, or at least made the man less willing to focus on it, was a welcomed bonus.

Malik understood though, because there was something in Allen that also called to him. The young man was one who had suffered, there was no doubt about it, but from the few things he did tell them, it confirmed the sense they had, of a soldier who had been on the battlefield for a while. It had become Allen's whole now, it was obvious in how he spoke, how he moved. Despite trusting Altaïr in his promise of safety, Allen's guards were always present, instincts sharps; and he certainly had the skills of a seasoned fighter.

And he was barely an adult. Not even their youngest Master Assassin, sitting beside Allen, had gotten this title so young. At most, at this age, one was a Novice, in training, or starting missions. The best might already have a year or two of being Assassins. But Allen…

If Malik was not wrong, Allen was close to a stage that would earn a Master level, a title not many actually earned. This fitted well with the conversation Altaïr had started, no doubt to also let Malik catch up to things.

“Allen, I noticed you mentioned Generals earlier, when you were talking of Komui. And Central? I am curious of how this Order of yours work.” Altaïr nodded toward Malik. “I'd like Malik to know what I know, too, when it comes to you. The more we know and the more we can help you.”

Allen offered a smile, still a little shy at the reminder of their willingness to help him. “I should start with how the Order work?” At Altaïr's nod, and Malik's curious look, Allen continued. “From what I know, the Black Order was created 100 years ago when they found one fragment of Innocence we call the cube. It contained a warning, for the return of the Millennium Earl. The Pope and Vatican, the leaders of the Catholic Church, eventually allowed the creation of the Black Order. Central is a branch of the Vatican that oversees the Order, and deals with anything that requires assistance we can't get on our own. They also have Inspectors, though I have only seen them interfere once.”

By the hard line of his jaws, it was not a pleasant time.

“So for all intents and purposes, Headquarters is for most of us the higher power we see and interact with on a day to day basis. This makes Komui, the Head Chief, or leader you can say, of Headquarters the one who oversees missions and everything. Exorcists also all live there. There are six Branches though all over the world in addition to Headquarters, with scientists and Finders in all; Finders are the ones who go investigate any strange occurrence to see if it might be related to Innocence, and they also warn us if Akumas are threatening areas. Often, though, Akumas will be where there might be Innocence. The scientists, for example, have created barriers that allows Finders to trap Akumas, or keep them from something, until Exorcists arrive. We also have, of course, medical wards too. The science department also tends to handle resources, and paperworks.”

Altaïr hummed, finishing his bite of food before he summarized, “So, your Order is under the control of Central, but for the most part you are under Komui's commands. Are the Branches independent?”

“They are under the command of Komui too, but they have their own leaders, and have their own scientists and Finders stationed there. Exorcists that have missions close enough can stay there until they need to go back to Headquarters. They are extensions of Headquarters in different areas, I guess?”

Malik nodded. “We have a similar system, if on a smaller scale, so we understand. Is there different levels of Exorcists then? Those Generals Altaïr said you mentioned?”

“Exorcists for the most part don't really have levels or hierarchy. We have a type and a synchronization rate. Parasitic types, like me, tend to be rarer, but their synchro rate often are higher, or raise more easily, due to being part of our bodies. Equipment types need more training, though it can depends, and there has been a recent evolution, the Crystal type.” He paused. “There's only been one Exorcist who had this evolution, as far as I know, and Crystal type seems to be halfway between Equipment and Parasitic. It is still an external weapon, but it is made of the Accomodator's blood.”

Malik winced. “Doesn't it put them in danger?”

Allen shook his head. “Blood loss can be recovered from, and Innocence give us a stronger healing ability. As far as I've understood, as her Innocence is made of her crystallized blood, she can control it better; and not much blood is needed to repair it.”

“Her? Is it the Lenalee you mentioned?” Altaïr asked, while Malik almost commented at the same time, “There are women within Exorcists, then?”

Allen offered a smile to both. “Yes, Lenalee is our Crystal Type. She is Komui's younger sister, and the reason Komui joined the Order. They took her when she was discovered to be an Accomodator, so he joined and went up ranks to be able to make it safer, better for her. For all of us.” He looked away from a moment. “To Central, we are weapons. Certainly not expendable, but our value is on the battlefield.”

Altaïr clenched his fist, not blind to what this meant. He felt respect for Komui too, the man had came for his sister, stayed with her, and had extended his good intents to the other Exorcists. It made him wonder, though, what else had been changed by Komui. He did not ask, though.

Allen shook his head, smile a bit sadder. “As I have said, though, Komui transformed the place. I haven't seen it before he was there, but what I know is that Headquarters were also home to us.” He chuckled. “The tradition has been to make a surprise welcome party for new Exorcists, and get them their own mug.”

The longing mixed with fondness was almost painful to see, yet it also warmed the two men. Still, Allen had gotten off track, and Malik gently reminded him. “So, anyone can be Exorcist? Or, I think you said, chosen to be? And Generals are special?”

Allen blinked, shifting his position, grabbing something to eat, which was gone fast. “Anyone might become an Exorcist, yes. Or at least, discovered to be an Accomodator. They need to train, and they are not send out until they have enough synchronization.” There was an expectant look directed at him and Allen made a, “Ah,” as he realized what he had yet to explain. “Our synchronization is how much we are in tune with our Innocence. Too low, and we risk extreme damages if we force activation. Sometimes, too low means we can't activate.” He did not mention they could Fall if they tried to activate at a too low percentage. He did not want to touch that subject right now. “We have three women who are Exorcists, including a General. I know there was at least two other women before.” He paused, voice softer as he said, “There's currently a child, too. He's currently always with his General, if he is sent out.”

“What? How old is he?” Malik asked, lips growing into a thin line. He softened at Allen's flinch.

“He's 9.” Allen smiled sadly. “I don't think Lenalee was much older when they took her away.”

Altaïr found himself petting Allen's head. “It's not your fault, though.”

Allen glanced up, surprised, but his smile was more genuine, more relieved. “I was one of the two Exorcists who found Timothy. He did chose to come in the end, but mostly because he realized the people he cared for would be in danger.” He looked down. “I had to explain that to him, and I hate that I was proven right, we were able to save them all, but it's what made him come. I know he genuinely wants to fight these battles now, but I just wish…” He trailed off, sighing.

Malik felt the urge to pull Allen closer, he didn't though. He did, however, squeeze Allen's shoulder. “Generals?” He asked, smiling faintly as Allen let out a breath of laughter.

“Ah, yes, Generals. They are the ones who reach and can go past a full synchro; which they means they are able to use the powers of their Innocence to its true potential, and so are the ones who are the strongest compared to regular Exorcists. We also call them Critical Point Breaker. Generals are those who reached this point and got promoted. Shishou was also a General, though I have been his only apprentice.” He smiled ruefully. “That man had no wish to take any brats, as he said; but made an exception when he found me.” His brows furrowed. “I'm still not really certain of why he did.”

Malik took notice of how Altaïr had not taken his hand away, a bit amused to watch how said hand just settled at the back of Allen's neck. It did make him wonder though, eyes assessing the man, who only peered at him from under his hood with some confusion. Then Altaïr noticed, too, and dropped his hand, a little perplexed frown visible for a brief moment.

Before Allen might notice though, Altaïr asked, “So… What is yours?”

Allen's cheek, strangely, coloured a bit. The young man rubbed his index finger above his mouth. “Well, I… I did hit the Critical Point a few months ago.”

Malik dropped the bread and cheese he had in hand. “You-Are you a General, then?” _Was I right when I said he felt close to a Master Assassin? Oh, dear_ _Allah_ _…_

However, Allen scowled, expression a bit bitter for a second. “No. They never promoted me. By the time I got back to Headquarters after it happened, I had also inherited the ability to control the Ark, which was something associated with our enemies. I guess, if I had ever been cleared of suspicion, they could have considered it.”

But it never happened, was the implicit but clear message. Altaïr felt a cold fury bubbled in his chest. It hurt Allen, he could see, to have been under suspicion. And then it hit him. “Is it related to that being in your mind?”

Allen's flinch replied before the words. “Yes… I'm the host to the Fourteenth, a member of the clan leading the Akumas and that are the loyal followers of the Earl. Not much is known about the Fourteenth, except that he betrayed the Clan 35 years ago and killed all of them but the Earl and one member.” He smiled then, but it lacked humour. “What makes the Clan a fearsome opponent is that they heal easily and are very hard to fight,” To not said kill, “And, in the case they are killed; they can reincarnate. The previous generations was killed by the Fourteenth, but by now, most of them have awakened again. And the Fourteenth has been awakening in me.” He sighed, his shoulder dropping. “We didn't even know it, at first, I was just someone who could use the Ark, possibly who inherited the ability to control the Ark; but it was enough for them to be wary. When they discovered I was in fact carrying a member of the Clan, I… it's only because I was a Critical, and that we could not spare to lose an Exorcist, that they did not take more drastic measures.”

Malik had lost his appetite by now, though at least he had eaten enough. He wondered, what would he have done if this happened to a Brother. And he knew the answer. As dangerous as an enemy sleeping within you would be, saving the Brother would be more important, giving them the tools to stay in control would matter more. Watching them would not be out of suspicion, but to keep them safe. But the way Allen talked…

“I'm sorry, Allen.” Malik said, voice quiet. “That does not sound like easy times.”

Allen smiled sadly, though his frame relaxed a bit as he felt Altaïr's hand at his back, between the shoulders, warm. “I am grateful my friends never lost faith in me, even when they learned I was the host of the Fourteenth. I could tell they were worried, but my friends knew me. They knew I would not allow myself to be taken over.”

Altaïr's lips formed a small smile. “Please tell me you didn't tell them to kill you if you lost control.”

Allen smiled sheepishly, Altaïr sighed with a mutter of, “Of course you did,” and Malik snorted.

Altaïr's eyes were on the back of Allen's head, his hand still at his back, thumb rubbing lightly. Allen was eating a bit more, though slow enough that Altaïr wondered about how much the subject affected Allen. The way the Order worked was easy to understand, and then, his mind had troubles wrapping around the idea of reincarnation. But if this Earl could recall dead people, it wasn't such a different thing to picture people being able to come back.

Although, apparently, this meant taking over someone. Or was Allen special? And what did it mean for Allen, for his humanity? Had something changed already, or would it only change if he lost control?

But… Altaïr did not feel willing to dig the subject deeper. He knew enough, and Allen had said the Fourteenth was not as present as he had been. A subtle look at Malik, and he could see the man too felt it would be fine to not push the matter.

Instead, Altaïr allowed his hand to ruffle white hairs. “So you are one of the strongest Exorcists? That I do believe. Are there many Generals, though?”

Malik grinned under his hand as he finally ate his bread and cheese as Allen's cheek coloured again.

“Ah, well, I guess you can say that, though we all have different abilities thanks to our Innocences. There are currently only three Generals. Shishou was one, but… As far as we know, he is dead.” His shoulders were dropping, and Altaïr mentally cursed himself. “There was a fifth one, but he was killed.” His jaws clenched, muscles twitching. “I was with him not long before it happened… Lenalee and I were called when he was attacked, but we arrived too late.”

Malik subtly glowered at Altaïr, who hide his face more in the shadows of his hood. Malik then recalled something, and softened. Altaïr would know a thing about arriving too late, wouldn't he? Indeed, he could see in the thin line of the man's mouth, that he was thinking of Adha.

“Sometimes, it is worse to think you could have been in time. I can't say we never know if you could have or not, but you tried, didn't you? And there's no way to know how it would have gone, if you ended in the battle yourself. They defeated a general, and I am guessing you weren't at your current level yet?”

Allen smiled sadly. “My Innocence had not evolved yet. Still… It would have helped if we had been there.”

Malik sighed, and threw a piece of bread at Allen, groaning, “Stop.”

It made the young man chuckle, and something grow a bit less dark in Altaïr. Not perfect, but a bit better. And then Altaïr latched on something, which Malik mentally blessed, alongside Allen's unconscious ability to attract Altaïr's attention.

“You said your Innocence evolved?”

Allen made an “Oh,” and then laughed a little bit, smile wry. “My arm used to be red, kind of scaly? Rather than smooth. With deep veins at the shoulders. I learned later it had not properly formed.” He scratched behind his head. “I, ah, I kind of almost died and got my arm destroyed.” He ignored the half choked _what_ from Malik and little jolt from Altaïr so he could continue, words a bit faster. “But my Innocence somehow was still, there. It stuck to its dust form, repaired the hole in my heart,” He winced faintly when Malik let out a second, more strangled, _**what**_ , “and stayed around my body as a thick mist. I was thankfully close to the Asian Branch, and was found. Once I woke up, I chose to go back to the battlefield, I didn't know that Crown was still there, but I wanted to go back to my friends. So we tried to get my Innocence to reform, but it wasn't working, and eventually we realized it was because it had never properly formed, so I did not know what its true form was.” A fond smile formed. “The Branch was attacked, and it was then that I realized what was blocking me. I was thinking about my friends, about needing to go back to them; but I was forgetting the Akumas.”

Allen lifted his left hand, touching his chest with it, silver eyes glancing down and smile softer, almost loving. “I promised then, my left hand for the Akumas, and my right for the humans. That was when Crown Clown returned to me, formed as it should be.” And he felt no surprise when the faintest glow came from his hand, warmth spreading through his arm and through his chest. “Our bond has been stronger since then, and grows still.”

Relief went through Malik, seeing the softer expression on Allen's face. He had not liked how sad the young man had gotten, but it was understandable, with how much painful experiences he had.

Altaïr watched Allen, eyes flickering to the glow, and felt warm in the chest. There was something almost inspiring with the young man, and if anyone asked him to believe in something holy, he would accept that maybe, Allen and his Crown Clown were a proof something good did exist. Was it a God? Allah? Did he exist in their world? Maybe, maybe not.

But Allen's heart, that was what was good. Altaïr had questioned Allen, and he saw goodness, strong will, a kind heart.

He wanted to hold this heart and protect it. There were too many wrongs, too much suffering, and rarely such goodness in the centre of war.

So Altaïr wanted to preserve Allen's heart. He had never believed he could find someone who knew wars, battles, and darkness as much as he did, and yet show such good, strong emotions. More than that, it proved Altaïr that loved and duty could exist together, something Al Mualim had denied.

But how could Altaïr believe love had no place for Assassins, for those that fought from the darkness, when Allen's strength came from love?

There was no denying that Allen loved humans, or even these Akumas. He was fighting for salvation, and not damnation, that was obvious. If Assassins, however, were ultimately fighting because they believed in salvation through freedom, to make it so all could question and understand their actions, so all could become wise and find peace…

If the Creed took roots with love, could it become greater?

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 12

Hello!

Welcome to next chapter of Assassin's Light~ It seems today we have a lovely little blend of lowkey “oh my god they were roomates” and almost “there's only one bed” tropes. Those, and my-Allen-is-headcanoned-as-adorable-when-sleepy.

Add in a little dose of protective Malik&Altaïr first thing; and show off Allen last thing; and you have chapter 12.

I will be reblogging on my tumblr blog (chrisemrysfics dot tumblr dot com) a manga panel of the exercise Allen is doing in this chapter, and if you wonder how Allen does it like he does in this chapter, I'll say it's all careful whole body control and tiny adjustments to keep the balance of the chair proper.

I hope you enjoy; and don't forget that if you like my writings, I have my own site for my original stuff at chriscassar dot carrd dot co!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 12 _

Dinner might be finished, but it was not yet time to retire for the night. Allen looked a bit sleepy though, so Altaïr told him he should go sleep, he had already arranged for a small mattress, pillows and a cover in his room. Allen still hesitated for a small moment, but he caved under Altaïr's long look.

Once they watched him go, Altaïr told Malik quietly, “It seems Abbas has been watching Allen, and Rauf reported to me that one of his men tested him.” His amber eyes were hard and cold, however, a snort left him. “Apparently, Allen sensed the knife coming and jumped out of the way, locating right away the culprit. He was also able to tell it was aimed beside him, not at him.”

Malik scowled. “We were right to be watchful. If Abbas and the others who still are wavering in their loyalty to you take Allen as their scapegoat...”

“I won't let them.” Altaïr's voice was almost a growl, amber eyes flashing. “Allen seems to be able to handle himself, but I will not have my Brothers disgrace themselves. We and Rauf, and anyone we can trust, should continue to keep an eye on how it is going.”

Malik's lips twitched, but he restrained himself. Instead, he diverted slightly the subject. “At least, quite a few of our younger Novices seemed to be more awed than wary, especially with earlier.”

Altaïr hummed. “Rauf told me a small group of them approached and talked with him. It seems he is already making friendly acquaintances.”

This time, Malik did allow the smile to form, laughing lightly. “Is it really surprising?”

Altaïr's own lips curled at the corner. “No, it isn't.”

They would not be alone in watching over Allen, it seemed. And quite honestly, it warmed their heart, the idea that some of their Brothers were taking Allen under their wings.

The young man needed, no, _deserved_ , such things, after all.

* * *

 

Altaïr carefully pushed open the door to his room, gaze finding Allen right away, the young man was asleep and did not seem disrupted, so Altaïr made sure to keep his steps light and to make very little noise as he closed the door.

It wasn't hard for him, of course; and that was why he almost startled when silver eyes were open the next time he flickered his gaze to Allen.

The young man blinked with sleepiness, then, likely as he registered it was Altaïr, a wide smile formed and soft, sleepy, “Finally going to sleep?” came from him.

Altaïr tried very, very hard to not associate the word adorable with this. He failed. At least it stayed in the privacy of his mind. He simply nodded, watching with growing amusement as Allen hummed in approval, then seemed to just go back to sleep.

The man watched him for a few seconds, then moved to his bed, removing weapons and robes to stay in simple tunic and breeches, a slight rustle sound making him look at Allen again. The young man had shifted to lay on his other side, facing Altaïr's bed now, eyes closed and face peaceful enough that he must indeed have gotten back into sleep.

He was also able to notice Timcanpy was cuddled against Allen's chest, the arm that looked pressed to Allen's chest in fact half hugging the little being.

Altaïr allowed his lips to form a faint smile, then he went into his bed.

The man felt sleep come to him with ease, the soft breathing of Allen more relaxing than bothering.

And it was maybe why, later, the change of said breathing woke him.

Altaïr did not understand at first, he felt how sleep clung to his consciousness still, a sign it was not yet the hour he would wake, approved by the darkness of the night. Then, it occurred to him that there was rustling, a soft cooing lined with concern, and irregular breathing.

Alertness hit Altaïr then, he had thrown the covers off him as his amber eyes found Allen's form. The young man was on his back, head turning from one side to another at times, body flinching here and there, hands clenched into his cover, and Timcanpy sitting on his chest, little paws petting his jaw.

The little being had no eyes, but it clearly looked toward Altaïr, a higher coo leaving him, full of worry and almost pleading.

The man had moved in few, rapid steps, finding himself kneeling beside the young man.

“Allen?” He called softly, one hand touching Allen's shoulder.

The white haired male whimpered lightly, whole body flinching. Altaïr removed his hand, but soon placed both hands on Allen's cheeks, calling his name again, more forcefully.

Allen's eyes snapped open, wide and for a beat unseeing, frightened in such a way that Altaïr's stomach twisted. Then those eyes flickered to him, the sensation of the warm hands on his cheeks registering and recognition coming to him.

The young man lost his tenseness, releasing a breath that was shaky, and Altaïr did not move, hands still on his cheek and amber eyes watching intently, unknowingly anchoring Allen.

Lips lifted into a weak smile, meant to reassure Altaïr, and it did, yet it bothered him in equal measure. “Sorry for waking you.”

Altaïr shook his head, watching Allen's face and not blind to the shadows of whatever nightmares that still lurked. Or had it been nightmares? “I guess it is a good thing you aren't alone in a room.” Allen's eyes looked a little bit guilty, vulnerable; and Altaïr's own narrowed. “Did you know this can happen?”

With Altaïr's hands still holding his face and amber eyes staring down at him, Allen could not advert his gaze, he licked his lips, growing more vulnerable in the single moment of hesitation. “I-Yes. If it isn't the Fourteenth actively trying to take over in my sleep, it's nightmares.”

Sometimes he would dream of things he worried about, of the Order destroyed, of friends dead, sometimes even seeing the Noahs dead, or killed by Apocryphos. Sometimes it was the Independent Innocence that haunted his dreams, nightmares of being absorbed, of being powerless as Apocryphos invaded his mind and heart. Sometimes the dreams were memories, of his own close call to death, of the death of others, of distorted and scarier battlefields he experienced. And sometimes… He did not recall his dreams, or only small glimpses, never able to make sense of them.

Altaïr's heart felt pained, mouth a thin line. Those eyes were the same as experienced Assassins, veterans fighters; the eyes of those that saw so much, too much and it haunted their nights. Altaïr was not free of nightmares, had some already at Allen's age, but such eyes…

The decision came to him naturally, and in a soft voice, he told him, without room for argument, “You should sleep beside me.” His gaze flickered to his own bed, then back to Allen, preventing the young man from arguing with the single look. “You woke up with ease when you sensed me. I'm a light sleeper, I need to be able to sense if something is wrong with my surroundings. Whether you sleep close or not, I will know when you have nightmares.” _Or when you are being hurt in your sleep._ “If we are close, I might not need to wake up fully.”

Many thoughts flashed in Allen's mind, what if he hurt Altaïr, he didn't want to bother the man, was he really okay with this; but most of all, Allen could not recall the last time he allowed anyone to be close, to see him, in his weak moments.

Altaïr already did, however; and was still touching him, still watching him with those eyes that were too steely to be false, a genuine intent and true offer of keeping Allen close and _safe_.

Allen let out another breath, a little sigh, shaky, undone by the way a thumb stroke his cheek in a manner that suggested it was an unconscious gesture. “If you are sure...” He started, amber eyes flashing as if to dare him to argue, as if to say _I am_ ; Allen offered a faint, tired, but genuine, smile. “Then I won't say no.”

Timcanpy made a happy chirp, settling on Allen's head as the young man finally sat up, Altaïr standing up and offering a hand to help Allen up. His hand stayed around Allen's lower arm when the young man swayed a bit, keeping him close as his free hand rested on a shoulder, giving Allen more support.

With an almost shy smile, Allen gave a quiet _thank_ _you_. Altaïr nodded, patting once Allen's shoulder before letting go, and then he moved back to his bed with Allen following. He took one look at his bed, and realized they would need to be close if they were to sleep both in it. How did he not think of that?

Maybe because he was too focused, too concerned, about the fear and pain in Allen's eyes.

“Will it really be alright?” Allen asked, no doubt having realized the same thing.

Altaïr glanced at Allen, the young man appearing hesitant in a manner still shy, but his eyes betrayed him again, still a little hopeful. If Altaïr had not thought fully over this, it did not change that he was not about to let Allen sleep on his own.

So he just nodded, and almost playfully, he pushed at Allen's back, making the young man stumble a step forward, closer to the bed. The gesture was taken as it was, silver eyes throwing a false glare to Altaïr, lips twitching with a smile.

In return, Allen gave a small little bow, gesturing with his hand in a silent after you. Altaïr snorted, which was echoed by Timcanpy, but he went in first, moving against the wall to make more room for Allen.

He held no doubt that it was a conscious decision of Allen's part, to end up not trapped against the wall. He knew it had nothing to do with Altaïr himself, because despite hesitation, the faint fluster told Altaïr that Allen was not quite used to proximity, even less so lately; and Allen's behavior up until now suggested he did not quite like the sensation of being restrained or trapped.

He felt Allen's back against his, not quite touching but close enough that Allen must be feeling Altaïr's body warmth too, and he smiled in the darkness.

“Rest well, Allen.”

“You too, Altaïr.”

* * *

 

Wakefulness came slowly for Altaïr, who felt unwilling to leave the warmth of his sleep, peaceful as he would rarely be. By the time he opened his eyes, memories flickered in his mind, reminding him that he had not been alone.

It took him a bit of blinking, however, before he realized that he had moved during the night. And it had to be himself, because Allen had not shifted, laying on his side with his back to Altaïr. It was the man who had turned, and apparently, who got an arm around Allen's body, bringing him closer.

Allen looked peaceful though, a bit more rested and healthy than yesterday, telling Altaïr than the young man had needed a good night rest; and well, he would be lying if he said he had not gotten his own good rest.

Still, Altaïr removed his arm in a careful manner, pretending he did not notice the faint grin of the golem. Slow and quiet, he got out of bed, dawn had started coming.

Rustles brought his gaze back on his bed, not much surprised to meet sleepy silver eyes, half opened and a little bit squinting toward him.

“Sleep.” Altaïr told Allen, soft but firm.

Allen blinked, yet he shifted to sit up, Timcanpy dropping on his laps and staying there. One hand lifted to rub his eyes, then to cover a yawn. “It's fine.” He mumbled, smiling, eyes a little more alert but it was obvious he had yet to fully wake. “Besides, I'd like to get back to some of my exercises.”

Altaïr tilted his head to the side, grabbing his robes. “If you are certain.” He was not about to stop someone from training, no matter if he had half a mind to push Allen back down and command he took a morning off at least.

Allen's lips formed a bigger smile, the young man getting up too, stretching. Altaïr found his eyes drawn to the tunic riding up, except what had drawn his eyes was a scar at his stomach. A stab wound, though from this angle, he could not see if it went through or not. And was there another scar he could glimpse at?

The sight was too quick though, Allen had not noticed, but it remained in Altaïr's mind as he finished wrapping his red stash, pulling his hood up. Allen, for his own part, did not yet get his clothes, instead he… took a chair?

Altaïr could not help the rise of one eyebrow as he watched Allen warm up with stretch movements, silver eyes catching his curious look and lips curling at the corner in an almost mysterious manner. Then, Allen gave one critical look at the chair, nodded to himself, put one hand on the top and one on the seat; and his legs left the ground, pushed up and weight shifted to stand on his hands upside down.

His tunic slide down however, which made the young man grumble and Timcanpy let out a snort, betraying Allen had forgotten about this detail. Flawlessly, he got back on his feet, shooting a glare at Timcanpy, hands going to remove his tunic, however he paused when he grabbed the lower end of it, looking at Altaïr.

The man's face seemed blank, but Allen saw how his eyes stared at where his stomach wound was, and doing a mental calculation, the young man realized Altaïr must have seen the other end of the stab wound. He was not sure what Altaïr was thinking, but when the man's head tilted up, amber eyes focused and interested, Allen found himself complying with the soft words of, “This looks like an interesting exercise, let me see.”

Allen felt like his heartbeat thumped a little harder, yet it did not stop him from removing his shirt, it would be easier to work out after all; and if he shivered faintly at the sensation of those eyes watching him so intently, he would ignore it, and Altaïr seemed to do the same.

Internally, Altaïr battled two different kind of fire. One was a slow fire that made him take into the built that had more muscles that he had first expected, still lean but definitely muscular, no wonder Allen had such strength. The other was all consuming, a fire that made his clench his jaws.

The stab wound was one thing. The scar that his mind could only comprehend as some massive sword that _impaled_ through the right side of his chest, from shoulder to stomach, was another. The rest of his skin was smooth, only some smaller scars that looked almost healed, as if only those two wounds left their mark.

Who had done this, what had they used? How had Allen survived, was he hurting still?

He felt hyperaware of his hidden blade, as if it was asking to be used.

Yet, it paled compared to the interest he felt, allowing his eyes to take into the left arm that was fully revealed, a black tattoo, or mark, at the shoulder. Then his attention shifted to what Allen was doing, arms crossing and eyebrows rising, hidden by the hood.

The young man had gotten upside down again, only to follow up with removing the hand on the seat, keeping his whole weight on his right hand at the top of the chair, muscles working to keep him right in his upside down position.

“Balance and strength?” Altaïr commented, seeing how Allen had to work his whole body to keep this position, though it must definitely strengthen the right arm the most, left arm curled behind his back.

Allen's lips twitched. “Warm up.” He replied, allowing a faint grin to form for a second before he did something with his hand, and the chair inclined, front legs leaving the ground. Altaïr's arms twitched, one step taken forward, and then he realized how controlled it was.

The chair was not falling, it was Allen that was balancing it on the back legs, still keeping himself on it.

“Now that's exercising.” Allen spoke, soft and small pauses between words, no doubt because he was focusing.

Altaïr's instincts demanded he grabbed Allen and put him back on his feet, or at least stand closer. The Mentor that he had recently become watched in approval, trying to picture what this kind of balance could mean. He could not help the way his lips lifted at the corner when Allen started, of all things, to do push-ups.

“Show off.” Altaïr accused, with the faintest trace of amusement.

“Acrobat,” Allen corrected, grinning. When he did not stop his push-ups however, Altaïr tilted his head, shifting his weight, watching silently for a few moments before he asked, “How many do you usually do?”

“Depends.” Allen replied, then, “Usually, three hundreds.”

Altaïr made a sound. Allen started counting outloud, unable to keep off his face the tiny, almost pleased smile.

“Well, come join me outside when you are ready for my training.” A pause. “You are feeling good?”

Allen paused his counting, then, the front legs of the chair thudded on the ground as the smallest movement got them back down, in the next second his hand left the chair as he gave a little push, legs going down, to land on his feet without stumbling.

“I haven't gotten as much sleep or food as I should have in the past few weeks so I can't say my body is in a top shape as it used to be, but it is certainly up for training. It might be best, in fact, to get in back in shape.” At Altaïr's lingering stare, Allen smiled. “I will tell you if something is not right.”

That smile was as reassuring as Allen's eyes were determined, so Altaïr simply nodded. Allen beamed, quick to put back on his top, and the robes he had been given, finishing with his gloves. Then they both left the room, Timcanpy hiding in Allen's robes.

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 13

Hello~ Welcome to the next chapter of Assassin's Light!

This chapter and the next are chapters I love writing, for reasons you'll see soon enough. Hakim makes his appearance again, and plays a role of external eyes to watch Allen, but also Allen&Altaïr. Also: training, and Altaïr's not so subtle possessive side showing. Or maybe I should say territorial.

On an important note: As of today I have written up until chapter 18 (said chapter 18 being finished), and so, with one chapter per week, I still have a little over a month of regular updates to offer. If I'm lucky, I'll have good inspiration days, allowing me to continue have regular updates for longer.  
However, it is also possible I don't get enough time and energy to do this, and that I basically run out of chapters in advance. I don't want to pause the updates, so I will continue to update weekly; but I wanted to warn of the possibility that in the future, I won't be able to update weekly/regularly.

I am hoping it won't come to that though; and that I'll be lucky enough to have good inspiration days! I really feel happy to update this story regularly, so I hope and want to continue doing so. So again: let's hope for inspiration to come!

Anyway; enjoy this chapter~

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**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 13 _

Hakim positively beamed as Allen arrived with Master Altaïr for the morning's training. The young man returned said beam with a little smile, though soon gave his attention to Rauf and Master Altaïr. Hakim's friends had noticed too, everyone must have, and Hakim wondered something, looked closer; and yes, there, Allen seemed casual, but he shifted from one foot to the other, leaning a bit closer to Master Altaïr in the process.

Their Mentor's head tilted slightly, uncrossing his arms and putting a hand on Allen's shoulder, nodding at Rauf. The action caused Allen's frame to relax a bit, his smile a little more genuine as their training master nodded back and smiled at Allen.

“Think he's nervous?”

Hakim looked at his friend. “I feel like it's more about all the looks.”

Another of his friends scowled. “You mean how he's looked at.”

Hakim gazed back at Allen; however he had to blink because the white haired was walking toward them, while Master Altaïr seemed to be going to train them with Rauf.

Allen greeted them all, then, with the smallest hesitation that made Hakim wonder if it wasn't shyness, he explained, “I'm meant to be like any recruits for today's training, for the most part. Rauf suggested I could, well, mingle.”

Hakim grinned. “You'll train with us, then?” He waved his hand around, at his little group of friends. Not all were quite as open as Hakim was, but they either did understand Allen's situation, liked him, or would have the courtesy to not show their wariness. Besides, Master Altaïr seemed to trust Allen, and that was more than enough for them.

Allen's smile grew a little bit bigger, inclining his head. “If you'll have me.”

It was another who exclaimed, “Of course!” as he threw an arm around Allen's shoulders. Hakim had always been a good observer, a good analyser, so he noticed the faintest ways Allen reacted. He did not tense, but it was because he made his body stay casual. His face, however, had the smallest twitch, the little trace of something like guarded; and his fingers had twitched.

Hakim wondered how many battles, how much danger, Allen lived in his fight far away that his instincts seemed to take touch as possible threat. Hakim also wondered, flickering his gaze toward Master Altaïr and not surprised to see their Mentor glancing their way, how comfortable Allen was in general with people touching him, and how Master Altaïr and Master Malik were the exceptions so far.

The fact that Allen could, in fact, so easily mask the uncomfortable reaction to most, told Hakim he did that a lot. Then Master Altaïr came to the rescue, calling for everyone to go into light sparring. And Hakim came to his own rescue, smiling bright, offering that Allen pair up with him.

* * *

The weight of the practice sword felt awkward in Allen's hand, but Hakim was a good sparring partner, suggesting he made some move with it, that they warmed up by meeting blows. It did help Allen, allowing him to get a feel of the sword.

Hakim noticed Allen had weak spots though, or to be specific, it felt as if Allen was a bit… reckless. It was in the way that Allen did not quite protect his side when he moved, the way the assassin in training he was often spotted little ways he could make a dangerous jab.

Yet, Hakim had seen Allen spar with Master Altaïr. And despite the openings he saw, he felt wary of using them, not counting that they were warming up.

Something poked at the back of his mind, and Hakim had to test it.

The next time he saw an opening, left side almost wide open, Hakim took it. He had no intent to harm Allen, he would hit the flat of the blade Allen's side.

The reaction was immediate. There was a split second of wide eyes, a realization that would confused Hakim for a long moment, as if Allen had meant to do something and couldn't. Then Hakim saw the exact moment Allen's mind switched off, eyes hard; and just as the flat of the blade would have connected, Allen's left hand strike.

It caught Hakim's wrist while Allen moved his body, half turning, his sword clattering to the ground as he let go of it to allow his right hand to grab at Hakim's collar; and Hakim felt himself leave the ground.

The impact with the ground made the air leave his chest, coughing; although he would never know that Allen controlled his strength. His instincts had taken over when he had realized he had no Crown Clown to stop the strike, that he had unconsciously counted on it and how usually it was not a human with a sharp blade that he faced, until he had realized nothing was about to stop the blade.

Of course, Allen was not without means to protect himself, but this close, throwing Hakim over had been his first instinct. Thankfully, just as he got the man off the ground, he had known to not give more strength, or else he wasn't sure how it would have gone.

Being unable to activate or not, Allen's body was still an Exorcist one. And he had to remind himself he was not sparring with a fellow Exorcist.

“Hakim! Are you okay?” Allen called with worry, kneeling beside his sparring partner, one hand on the man's chest as the wheezing calmed down.

Hakim blinked up at Allen, back sore but breathing going back to normal. He grinned, wide and bright, laughing and coughing. “Allah, that was amazing!”

“I'm so sorry-What?” Allen blinked, leaning back on his heels as Hakim sat up, confused.

Hakim still grinned. “I thought you had weak spots and I wanted to see what would happen.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I wasn't about to hit you where it's sharp, but I should have realized you would at least have the reflexes to do something.”

“You are lucky his reflexes opted for a defence that leaves no injury.” Altaïr's voice sounded, adding after a beat, “Or almost none. How is your back?”

Both young men looked toward the Mentor, Allen's cheeks a tiny bit red, a little embarrassed. Hakim scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, but he was still grinning. “Sore, but nothing bad, Mentor.”

Altaïr nodded, watching as Allen stood up and offered his hand to help Hakim up. Then, the man put a hand on Allen's shoulder, getting his attention. “You should be more careful; you are used to have a protection to your left side, aren't you?”

_Is it Crown Clown?_

Allen blinked, then he smiled lightly. “Ah, yes, Master Altaïr.” His eyes slid briefly to his left arm, for only Altaïr to see. There was more to say, but later, when they would be alone.

Altaïr nodded. “Then you need to train yourself to protect both sides. Although; that was a good defence you did.” He praised, then he shifted his gaze to Hakim, trying to ignore the warmth at Allen's pleased little smile. “And you did good aiming for the opening you saw. You got Allen to see his own weak point; and he got to show you a good non lethal defence.” His attention returned on Allen, letting his hand drop. “Later, you will show me how to do this properly. This would be very useful when we do not want to harm our attackers.”

They had ways, of course, disarming opponents, hitting with the pommel, and even methods similar to what Allen did. But what Allen showed had its own method, one that they could benefit to learn as well.

“Of course, Mentor.” Allen replied with a smile.

Altaïr let Allen return to training with a nod then, although he didn't move too far; his gaze left the young man for a small moment to half glare at some who had slowed to watch. They were quick to go back to their training too.

The Mentor's mind wandered though, watching Allen again. It was small, very small, but Allen wasn't quite comfortable calling him master; in a manner similar to when Altaïr had first told him others called him Master Altaïr. He had done it only twice until now, one in front of the crowd, and one right now, in front of another assassin. However, when it came to addressing him again, Allen had shifted to Mentor. And it was simply something in Allen's eyes.

Altaïr also remembered how Allen used a word in another language for his own mentor. Technically, Allen was talking Arabic, but it seemed more as if he was thinking in his own language, and he spoke Arabic, all without really thinking about it. So, in his head, he had used master.

It was such a little detail; but Altaïr found himself wanting to know why. He found himself wondering why someone would not be comfortable with calling someone master; and he did not like what his mind could think of. If anything, he should ask to stop the darker ideas that came to him.

Or to have something to murder in his mind.

Maybe he should leave these thoughts, because the closest to him were getting tense, and Allen glanced at him. This fact however seemed to calm Altaïr, once more he wondered whether it was his Crown Clown that gave him those instincts, or if it was just Allen.

Probably both, Altaïr believed.

His attention was on the present now at least, watching and appreciating the way Allen awkwardly mimicked Hakim, soon growing more confident with the few little tricks the novice was showing him. A quick, visual learner? That did not surprise him.

What did surprise Altaïr was the faint feeling of… of jealousy. Of feeling like he wanted to get Allen, be the one to show him. And after a few minutes, he decided it sounded like a good idea, and went back to the duo.

He had the sense to smooth away the feeling though, Hakim was being good to Allen after all.

“I see you have been adapting well.” He addressed Allen, making the two pause. Allen looked at him, blinking then smiling; while Hakim watched between the two of them, head cocked slightly. Altaïr acknowledged his novice with a look and a nod, a little bit warm as Hakim smiled wide, happy; then the Mentor spoke to Allen again. “Come with me now, Allen.”

Allen looked at him, then nodded. He smiled toward Hakim, thanking him for training with him; and Hakim beamed.

“No problem, Allen. Mentor,” He bowed his head lightly, then went to join back his group of friends.

“You have made a friend, I see.” Altaïr commented, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Allen's own smile formed, a little happy. “It seems I did.” Then, his expression turned curious, and also, interested. Eager. “So, what did you want to do, sir Altaïr?”

Altaïr's lips twitched, he had not expected to hear this again, after he got Allen to just use his name. He knew it was a small teasing, and it amused Altaïr himself. Although… he hoped Allen would use just his name more.

“We are going hand to hand, novice.” He replied, allowing for a faint moment his smile to show. Then he looked around, humming to himself. “Put your sword away then we'll go to the garden. I have a feeling it will be better for our backs; and you still need to take it easy.”

Allen blushed lightly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am better, really.” Altaïr gave him a long look, and Allen waved his hand. “Fine, okay, I'll just, put the sword down and we go?”

Altaïr nodded, allowing a pleased smile to form, and his eyes followed the young man as he quickly got his practice sword back with the others. If he felt very pleased at the few longing, curious looks when both Allen and he left the practice field; only him would know.

_To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 14

Hello~

Welcome to the next chapter of Assassin's Light, which is one I really enjoyed writing~!

For all of you who have been waiting for more hints of Altaïr/Allen, this chapters will please you. Allen is a little tease in this chapter, and then, fluff! The two are definitely growing closer~

Note: there's a mention of someone being like a master to Allen (in a the sense of a slave's master) and this actually refers more to a part of my canon divergent background for Allen (in few words, he was on the streets before the circus, but eventually got caught stealing, and the shop owner didn't report him under the condition of having Allen work for him, treating him like a servant and implicitly, like a slave).

I hope you enjoy!

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**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 14 _

Allen felt tension leave his body as they entered the garden, away from the eyes and ears of everyone. He felt Altaïr's eyes on him, and when he flickered his own at the man, he allowed a sheepish smile to form, because that gaze was knowing.

However, when Altaïr spoke, it was another of matter entirely; and later Allen will realize it was very willed, the rascal.

“Have you had a master before?”

The surprise of the question caused two things: Allen never realized Altaïr used the English word, and he flinched, looking away before he could think, but not fast enough to cover the deep shadows of heavy feeling in his chest.

“Was I this obvious?” Allen replied after a few beats, still looking away.

Something twisted in Altaïr's stomach, his hand reached to touch Allen's shoulder, but he let it drop, for once unsure. Instead, his voice was softer as he told the younger man, “Only to me.”

Allen relaxed a bit, which produced some warmth in Altaïr. So Allen didn't mind it, if Altaïr himself saw past his defences? Interesting. When the younger man finally allowed his gaze back on Altaïr, it was sad, like his smile.

There was an edge of bitterness, too.

“I had no master.” Allen started, with a certain coldness in his tone, but Altaïr knew right away it was directed at someone that was not him. “However, someone thought he could treat me as if he was.”

The way Allen's voice had grown quieter as he went, gaze lowering with a little frown, Altaïr knew then that the impact still weighed on Allen. This time, Altaïr allowed his hand to rest at the younger man's shoulder, a little content that it didn't cause anything but silver eyes to gaze up at him again.

Did Allen know that he looked vulnerable right now?

“Then only call me Altaïr, no matter if we are alone or not.” He paused, enjoying the way Allen kept his gaze locked with his, accepting of the reassurance Altaïr gave, smile slowly forming on Allen's lips, almost shy. “You may call me Mentor when you feel like it, too.”

Allen's smile widened, almost a grin. “You enjoy being called that, admit it.”

Altaïr removed his hand, letting it drop. “I have no idea what you mean. Do you not have something to show me?”

Allen's eyes were alight with mischief, almost enough to make Altaïr shift with wariness. Almost. Whether Allen or not knew Altaïr enjoyed Allen's use of Mentor more, that was for Altaïr to never know, it seemed.

“You allow me to touch you, Mentor?”

Scratch that. Allen **knew**. Altaïr crossed his arms, peering from under his hood, and not blushing. He would not blush like a maiden. “If you can.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, Altaïr felt all of the sudden as Allen's silver eyes seemed so much brighter, and the smile, so much sweeter it was almost coy.

Altaïr expected it when Allen moved, highly wary that the attempt to grab his collar had been too obvious, allowing Altaïr to sidestep with ease while using one hand to grab Allen's arm. Yet, nothing prepared him from the way Allen twisted just enough his arm to be able to get a grip, for the speed in which he did so, and he realized too late it had been the left arm when he tried to move back and it was too strong of a grip to get away from.

It all happened in a split second, and in the next, Allen had grabbed his collar and twisted his body. Altaïr smacked in Allen's back, confused for a faint moment before he realized Allen had stopped before throwing, still keeping both grips. This had lead Altaïr to be pressed to Allen's back, one arm around the young man's chest as the left hand still gripped it, and his head almost against Allen's because his right hand had his collar gripped tight while resting on his shoulder.

“You should find your own comfortable stance for the throw, but that is mine.” Allen commented, which took Altaïr a few beats to properly process, with how his mind was focused on all the points of contact with the young man. They were many. He could feel his warmth, the quiet strength waiting to be released.

By the time Altaïr finally registered what Allen had said, the white haired had tilted his head to be able to glance at Altaïr.

“You did not throw me.” Altaïr stated, cursing his lack of ability to filter his words. Why did he sound unhappy? Allah help him. He did not wish to have felt Allen's strength first-hand. Of course not.

Allen's smile was sheepish, but his silver eyes were too bright once more. “I had to rely to my full strength to grab you, you are too fast for me. There was no way to throw you without hurting you.” Altaïr only had a second to process the change into a smirk, Allen's words of, “Now, however...”

And then Altaïr flew. That was all he could think of as the ground left his feet, the hand tight around his arm and the one fisted against his collarbone the only real things he felt as he slashed through the air. All too soon, the ground welcomed him again, back smacking into it, air leaving his lungs, pained grunt leaving him.

Altaïr laid there as Allen crouched above his head, resting his elbows on his knees, and his head in his palms, smiling sweetly.

Somehow, Altaïr found his voice, if a bit wheezy, “And that's without your full strength?”

That smile widened, so sweet Altaïr shivered as if instincts screamed _danger_. “The ground is not cracked, so no.”

There was no other choice that to laugh for Altaïr, a short breath of it. A good choice, he mused, if it made Allen's smile genuine, warm almost. “Is it Crown Clown, then?”

Altaïr finally sat as he had asked the question, turning to face Allen, and Allen sat down crossed legs, humming. “Most of it, yes. Well, Crown the reason I can be stronger than those without Innocence, but I did train my body to match the strength it gave my left arm.”

Altaïr's eyes shifted to said arm, then back to Allen's eyes. “So it is giving you limits higher than regular people?”

Allen nodded. “This is true for all Exorcists, although it is first what we can take that's higher, and actual strengths can vary. I can lift pillars without troubles, but not all my friends could. I've only ever seen one Innocence do that too,” He crossed on arm on his chest, the other resting on it and a finger tapping his lips, “Krory did stop Lavi's hammer with his teeth, though...”

Allen realized there was silence yet focus, and he blinked, scratching his cheek with the finger when he noticed how Altaïr stared blankly at him.

“You… can lift pillars? Teeth?” Altaïr had been able to understand most of what Allen had explained so far, a big part because Allen was good at knowing how to do so; and it was not that he did not understand.

The mental image of that lean, young man lifting a pillar as if it was nothing had simply fried Altaïr's mind for a small bit. The small, indulging smile that formed did not help.

“I would demonstrate, but all pillars I can see are attached, and I think that would blow the whole don't get too suspicious part we are trying to achieve. I could pick you up, though.”

No, Altaïr did not make a sound from the back of his throat that was akin to a whine. Instead, somehow, his mind managed to think and he kind of blurted, “Is this why you almost got hit? During training?”

Maybe he had betrayed the way his heart had skipped a beat, when he had seen Hakim's move, even when he had known it would hit with the flat of the blade; if Allen's few beats of silence as he looked at him meant anything.

“Not quite; it is true I realized too late I did not have an activated Crown Clown to protect me, but I had ways to counter that wouldn't show anything.” Allen shrugged. “I went with what felt best for the situation and that would still be possible for a regular person.”

Altaïr nodded in understanding. He had known Allen to have fast reflexes, but this proved he was quick to think. That sometimes it was not just reactions, that sometimes Allen actually passed through options in a quick manner.

Again, it reminded Altaïr of experienced soldiers, and it twisted something in his stomach.

How Allen spoke poked at his mind too; and finally he asked a question he and Malik had been thinking about. “You say regular person; does this mean you… aren't?”

Allen flinched lightly, which made Altaïr feel a twinge of guilt. At least, Allen seemed to know what exactly Altaïr was wondering, but the man wondered if maybe, the subject was sensitive. “I'm human, all Exorcists are.”

But Allen was looking down, and Altaïr's stomach twisted. The man waited in silence however, and finally, Allen sighed before lifting his gaze. His silver eyes were troubled.

“As you know, I have the Fourteenth within me. He's… awakened recently, and I'm… not sure what it means for me.” He played with the hem of his sleeve. “The Clan that he's part of, the ones that work with Millennium Earl, they are technically humans; but...” His fingers tightened, gripping his sleeve. “They call themselves super-humans. It makes you wonder, being able to heal from everything that is not Innocence's wound, and even then, how strong you have to be to even survive an encounter, let alone damages them.” He breathed out a laugh. “If I'm still human, I'm not a normal one anymore. I'm not even sure I ever was.”

Altaïr heard how shaky Allen's voice had gotten; and he wanted to curse himself. On the other end…

He didn't know when he had become so touch-willing, but maybe it had to do with Allen. He felt sure that Allen himself was not one to accept well the touch of others, yet he had seemed comfortable with Altaïr's.

As it was, Altaïr found himself sliding to sit besides Allen, and wrapped one arm around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him closer in a manner that was easy enough to resist.

Allen did not. He blinked, startled; but he willingly pressed closer to Altaïr's side.

“I might not know or understand fully all that it means, to have Innocence, to have this Fourteenth within you,” Altaïr started, looking forward, “But when it comes to being human...” He paused, amber eyes flickering down. Allen was glancing at him, vulnerable. Lips formed a gentle smile. “I have never seen someone as human as you are.”

Allen's cheeks coloured, head ducking down, but Altaïr saw the touched smile that formed. A quiet, “Thank you,” came from Allen, and for all reply, Altaïr tightened the one-armed hug for a brief moment.

They stayed like this for a few more moments, both secretly enjoying the peaceful warmth within their heart at the casual closeness.

They never noticed Malik, standing at the garden's door, arms crossed with a little smile, quietly leaving, making sure no one would bother them.

_To be continued..._


	19. Chapter 15

Hello~ Welcome to the next chapter of Assassin's Light!

Here we have some more of Altaïr and Allen moment, with more teasing, and a little bit of insight, as well as a reply to how the heck Allen has yet to get lost (hint: of course it's Tim, so imagine for a second that Tim isn't there for a brief moment). Malik and Altaïr probably won't ever recover from how abysmal Allen's sense of orientation is.

And then we get something I believe quite a few of you has been waiting for. Two, in fact. A confrontation (and I loved writing Allen and his words in it), and a, ah, reminder. Of the one danger Allen hasn't escaped from.

Enjoy~!

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**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 15 _

They knew in the back of their minds that they couldn't stay like this forever, someone would start to wonder, or maybe look for them. They only meant to do a little training after all. In fact, Altaïr realized they might have stayed in the garden a little longer than his Assassins would have expected; but he could play it off as simply taking time to learn well Allen's move.

Neither of them made a move to get up, though. Altaïr couldn't help thinking of how easy it had been, to trust Allen, to accept him within these walls, to accept the way he felt protective. He knew part of this all had to do with his special sight, he knew that he had seen something he could not comprehend. As much as Allen's words about his world made sense, as much as he did understand the ideas, he knew his mind had not fully wrapped around it all.

Yet, he knew from deep within that he was not afraid, was not suspicious, and most of all that he did not regret. He shifted his gaze briefly to Allen; and Altaïr felt certain of the way he trusted this young man. He felt certain of how good it felt, to have met him. It soothed something in his heart he had not known needed to be soothed.

He just hoped that, maybe, Allen's openness with him was a sign of something similar.

These were the thoughts that were going through Allen's mind, too. It still baffled him, when he paused to think about it, that in such a short time, he had trusted Altaïr with things some of his friends had never heard. That he allowed Altaïr and Malik to see past his mask.

Yet… Was he truly surprised? Three, almost four months on the run; eventually accepting how lonely it made him feel, how much he missed his friends, how much he wished he had appreciated more that he had earned people who showed genuine care for him.

Was it so surprising, that sensing the honest protectiveness Altaïr displayed, Allen felt willing to lower his guard, lower his mask?

He wondered why Altaïr acted as such, that was true; however he felt too… worried of raising the question. He had lost too much, especially lately; and he was not willing to risk questioning something and losing it in the process. Part of him felt it made no sense, but it was not enough to quiet his worry.

Instead, he basked in it. Logically, Allen knew that he would leave sooner or later. He just didn't know whether to try not getting too attached, or to try enjoying his time here as much as possible.

He felt himself lean a bit closer, which was hard to achieve considering they have been sitting so close, but somehow he did; and Altaïr immediately gazed down at him from under the hood, one eyebrow raised.

Allen smiled. “That's a beautiful garden you have. I would have thought there would be many around to enjoy it.”

A little snort left Altaïr at the choice of words, and at Allen's confused but inquiring look, he explained, “It depends of the time of the day, at other moments you will find the Fruits of the garden.” He paused, feeling what he realized was close to embarrassment as he finished explaining, “They are women, who my men can seek… company.”

Allen made a, “Oh,” then he laughed lightly, something nostalgic in his smile. “I've lost count of the number of times I've found myself in places like this, though that's certainly the first _garden_.” He glanced up, amused at the way Altaïr stared with a slight confused furrow of brows. “Shishou had his fair share of lovers, and we stayed at a lot of brothels. You grow used to it, at least enough to stop growing red. Women being dressed lightly are nothing once you've seen your teacher's _thing_.”

Altaïr tried, he really did. But the way Allen said those words, disgruntled and long suffering, and the face he made…

He snickered, and snickered again, and finally laughed.

Allen blinked, leaned to the side, brows furrowed. Then, he crossed his arms, pouting and cheeks a little bit flushed. “Don't laugh!”

Altaïr tried to apologize, but damn it all, why did Allen have to be so adorable?

The man half froze, choking lightly, straightening. He could not say if it was from the realization of what he just thought, or from the shudder that went down his spine at the way Allen's lips curled in such a dark grin. Somehow, Altaïr felt like he would not be surprised if Allen had horns right now.

“You know, I think Timcanpy was there-”

Altaïr widened his eyes, gulping, moving before he could think as soon as he understood what Allen was thinking about. One hand clapped over Allen's mouth, and Altaïr's lips twitched at the way the young man crossed his eyes.

“Don't you dare, you little novice. I'm your Mentor right now and I order you not to subject me to this.”

Silver eyes stared, deadpan, at him. A certain golden golem fluttered to sit on Allen's head. Altaïr found himself sending a pleading gaze at them both, and quickly he added, “You would have to view it all over again yourself, you know?”

Allen made a thoughtful expression. And then, Altaïr made a sound and quickly pulled back his hand.

“Did… Did you just _lick_ me?”

“It was that or the recording.” Allen shrugged. “You made a valid point.”

“You licked me.” Altaïr repeated, staring down at his hand. He still felt how that warm tongue rubbed his palm, and oh Allah, why did it make him feel so warm in his belly?

The man jolted as a finger poked his cheek. He gazed up, and drew in a sharp breath as Allen had leaned closer, a little amused yet a little concerned. “You are a little red, Altaïr.” His expression grew more concerned. “Did… Did it really bother you?”

Altaïr blinked. Then shook his head. “You surprised me, that's all.” His heart thumped a bit harder, and he hoped he was scowling, but judging by the return of the amusement, he might be pouting instead. “Have you no shame? One does not simply lick another.”

Allen snorted, leaning back finally. “I think we just established Shishou kind of ruined my sense of shame.”

For the life of him, Altaïr could not decide whether he wanted to thank the man, or murder him. His expression must have reflected his confused annoyance because Allen laughed, a genuine sound that soothed Altaïr's senses.

“Shishou does tend to make people have this expression.” He chuckled. And then, his expression stilled, he swallowed, and a shadow fell over his eyes.

Altaïr immediately understood why. He felt a need to lift it, to do something to soothe Allen. For a beat, a single moment, he found himself hesitated between two different options, unsure what would work best, wishing he knew what would help better Allen.

Should he divert the subject, or should he share about Al Mualim?

What came out of his mouth was, “I wouldn't mind seeing this lack of shame.”

Allen looked startled, and Altaïr felt like he mirrored the expression. Well, at least both had forgotten all about what they had been talking. Now, it was a simple of matter of whether this could grow very awkward, or very…

Very what?

Something considering, or maybe assessing, overtook Allen's features. The smile that followed was sweet. Altaïr made a sound, eyes widening a bit as his instincts screamed _you are doomed._

Allen stood up. And promptly started to remove his robes, hands already working at the tunic under as he oh so casually commented, “It's getting hot, you know.”

Did… Did Allen just..? “You did not just make that word play.”

“I think he just did, but please Allen, we need our Mentor with still some mind left.”

Altaïr jolted with his whole body, twisting to face the new voice. Allen squeaked, jumping a step backward.

Malik stood there, arms crossed, face torn between twitching lips and stern look. None of the fondness he felt within showed, however. It was hard to feel annoyed, or stay annoyed, when he realized how much both men seemed to just… forget about anything but being young men when they were together.

Despite everything, Altaïr was still young, wasn't he? Barely past his mid twenties, with a boyhood of lost father, trained to kill, and recently shattered views of the Creed and how corrupted their previous Mentor had become.

Allen was younger, just starting to be a young man, raised in the middle of war, of creatures his mind still could not wrap around, of talk of being God's chosen soldier, with his fair share of loss.

Altaïr remained confident, had gained a belief in freewill. Allen remained good, strong willed in his intents to save.

And apparently, when they were together, they brought the simple young man out of each other.

How could Malik resent that?

“Be glad I have redirected the last three Brothers who were wondering where you were. The women are going to wander around soon, though.” Which was why Malik had decided he had given them enough time.

Allah only knew how he almost choked on his breath as he had approached quietly, knowing they were once more lost in their own little world, only for the almost strip show and the words to hit him.

_Good_ , Malik thought, vindictive, when both flushed. However, his voice was soft when he told Altaïr, “You have letters to review,” and he never would have thought this would happen, but when he saw some of the light leave Altaïr's eyes, the Mentor turning back into his more serious side, knowing he had issues to deal with…

Malik felt he disliked it. It was not about their work, he knew it; it was about the return from this strange little moment of simple warmth.

But of course, Allen knew this kind of sensation, didn't he? It was written in how he glanced at Altaïr, and at how easily he knew how to lift it all. It was written in how he touched Altaïr's arm, giving a gentle smile when the man looked at him.

“Good luck with your work, I'll be in the library. I am very curious about the books I can find.” He paused glancing to Malik then back to Altaïr. “We can have dinner all together again, too? I… kind of like doing that.”

_Bless this young man,_ Malik thought, gaze softening, aware of Altaïr doing the same.

And Allen knew they had seen right through his ability to give them something to look forward to, as he ducked his head down a bit, little smile at the corner of his lips, and shy little blush on his cheeks.

Altaïr placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then we'll do that.” He gazed at Malik.

Malik immediately nodded, smiling at Allen in a way he hadn't in a while. Genuine, warm. His mind was not ready yet to call it brotherly, though. “That sounds good. I would go with you, but that novice needs me.”

As the man pointed his thumb at Altaïr, the Mentor made a sound of protest, frowning, but said nothing as Allen laughed lightly. “It's okay, you two have fun.”

Now that was just plain teasing, and both men send a look at Allen, who just smiled innocently. Malik sighed. Altaïr shook his head and stood up.

Malik snorted when Altaïr ruffled Allen's hairs, earning a, “Eh!” before they walked together, the library and Altaïr's office in the same direction.

Maybe, this tendency to take it easy, to be a little more willing to have fun, that Allen seemed to bring out of them, would not be a bad thing. They would certainly some good times, considering how worried they were getting about how well the Templars have been hiding themselves lately.

Malik found himself praying they could have some more time of tranquillity. But, also-

“… Allen, the library is that way.”

Allen flushed at the baffled tone and expression. He could understand, since he had been about to go in the opposite direction. Which was the one they had come from. They had paused when they reached the branch off path, Malik and Altaïr had been about to continue going up, and of course they had expected Allen to go the only remaining way. But no, somehow, the young man had turned and almost went the wrong way.

Allen put a hand at the back of his head. “I… might have the worst sense of orientation ever.”

“How did you not get lost before?” Altaïr asked, almost amazed. And horrified.

For all reply, Timcanpy flew in from the path they had come from, smacking into the back of Allen's head. The young man yelped with the golem bounced back. One hand lifted again to the back of his head, this time to rub it, one eye closed from the little pain and the one open sending a look at Timcanpy.

“This little rascal supposed to be my guide, when he isn't fluttering off.”

Timcanpy sat on Allen's head, looking innocent, while Allen chuckled a bit. Then, he noticed the way both men stared at the golem, and he sweat-dropped as they said together, “Don't separate from him again.”

Timcanpy puffed out, nodding; and then made a sound when Allen suddenly grabbed him. His expression had gotten alarmed, and he shoved the golem in his robes. “Oh god, I just realized-Tim, don't stay in view like this!”

This made the two men snap their gaze around, but gratefully, they had been alone. Altaïr sighed, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. “Please, for the love of everything, be careful.”

Allen flushed, and Timcanpy, still visible where he peeked from, looked very guilty. It melted Altaïr, who found himself sighing again and shaking his head with an amused smile. All the while, Malik had been keeping his one hand over his mouth.

Allen squinted at the way Malik's shoulders were shaking. “Malik-san… Are you laughing at me?”

Malik shook his head, but didn't remove his hand. Altaïr send a look that was getting amused at his fellow assassin, then a curious one back at Allen. “Why did you call him like this?”

Allen blinked, and Malik himself got his laughter under control as he too realized. The young made a, “Oh!” and then scratched the back of his head. “That's a Japanese way of addressing someone you respect, the same language as the word Shishou. Must have slipped.” He shrugged, then blinked at the way Malik looked at him.

It was when Malik smiled a little softly that Allen realized what he just said. He just smiled back in reply, one finger rubbing above his lips. Altaïr said nothing, but the shadow of his hood was not hiding fully his own smile.

And they simply part like this, the two assassins glancing back to make sure Allen had gone the right away before going their own.

* * *

 

Despite how often it had happened for Malik to surprise Allen, it had all to do with the trust Allen had in the man, and a little bit of Crown finding it amusing. Most often, Allen was very aware of his environment, and in addition, his Innocence was always ready to warn him. Add Timcanpy, and Allen was very hard to surprise.

However, the facts were as such: Timcanpy was hidden in his robes, Crown was still a bit sluggish, Allen was focused into what he was reading, and assassins made no sound when they walked.

Allen never realized someone had come behind him until he turned, meaning to go sit since he was getting absorbed, only to collide with a chest. He yelped, having the reflex to press the book to his chest, and thankfully whoever he bumped into had the reflex to catch him by the shoulders.

Crown Clown flared, bristling; and Allen tensed. He knew before lifting his silver eyes that this was Abbas. And he cursed how he had visibly went rigid before even seeing who it was, when he noticed the frown and considering look.

Allen plastered on his best polite smile. It was good enough to make Abbas confused, as he had enough training to sense something was off, but Allen was too good for him to actually see it; leaving the man with not feeling comfortable but not knowing why.

“Sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention, as you might have noticed.” Allen chuckled, scratching the back of his head with one hand.

Abbas nodded, still feeling a little confused, however his hands had yet to move. “It's fine, Allen right?”

Allen smiled more, humming. “That's right, sir. I think Master Altaïr called you Abbas?” Altaïr might have told him it was fine not to use the title, and it might still be a word that made Allen feel a bit queasy, but this time he was using the Arabic version, and he was more focused on the man he knew to have something against Altaïr.

The man's eyes flashed, narrowing. “Yes, this is correct. May I know what you have been doing? Last we've see you, you went to train alone with the Mentor.”

Allen titled his head, staring straight into Abbas' eyes. Briefly, he shifted his gaze down, to the hands holding him, and when he had lifted it again, his smile had gotten wider. “Reading, I thought this was obvious. Master Altaïr was needed.”

“And he left you alone?”

Allen narrowed his eyes. He straightened himself, getting into Abbas' personal space as much as the man had been doing. “Yes, he knows I meant to read. Is there an issue with it?”

The man's expression darkened, though he simply snorted. “I was under the impression he was watching over you.” The man's eyes went down and up again, taking in the younger man's form, assessing. “You told us yourself, didn't you? That you could lose control anytime. What is Altaïr thinking?”

Anger flashed within Allen's heart, but he let none of it show. Instead, his smile grew sweet, making Abbas really uncomfortable. “More than you, you mean?”

Abbas' anger was not so hidden. “You-” He stopped short when, finally, one of Allen's hand clasped around one wrist.

It was his left one, and Abbas felt uneasy at how strong the grip was. More than that, he felt something warning him off in the back of his mind.

“I can understand you worry, Abbas, truly. But I must ask you to release me.” Allen demanded, soft and almost gentle. Yet, his eyes were hard like steel.

Abbas would never admit it, but he felt… scared. It took him a few beats to realize he had obeyed, releasing Allen and taking a step back. Allen did not move yet however, instead he returned Abbas' stare with his still steel-like gaze.

“You can dislike me, distrust me, watch me if that soothe your concerns. But don't imply ever again that Altaïr is not doing good. You have no idea how it is to be in his place, so with all the politeness I can, please do shut up.”

And with those words, Allen placed a hand on Abbas' chest, pushed, making him take an automatic step back, so that the young man walk past him. Abbas turned, torn between rage and something cold that he didn't want to admit again was fear, and it all mixed in indignation when he noticed Allen had sat down at a table, reading.

As if Abbas was of no concern anymore.

The rage started to win over the fear, the uneasiness, _this one had to be a threat, he was too dangerous-_

He had never realized that he had started walking to Allen until someone else stepped into his path.

“What do you think you are doing, Abbas?”

Allen blinked, lifting his head. He had, in fact, sensed Hakim a few moments ago, but then he had been busy with a certain matter. Namely, that the Fourteenth had stirred from his feelings. Of course, he had not let it shown, and rather than reading, he had been calming himself, letting Crown Clown soothed his mind.

He had vaguely registered Abbas moving, but he had not felt threatened. Now he realized it might be because Crown and himself might have sensed the protectiveness emitting from Hakim.

Still, Allen's gaze locked on the blade he could glimpse at Abbas' left hand. The man himself blinked, looking down, a little startled. His gaze lifted again, settling on Allen, staring in the silence of all three for a few moments.

There was still anger shining in those eyes. Abbas said nothing, flicked his wrist to get the blade back, and left. Hakim watched him go, so did Allen, both with a little frown. Then, Hakim looked at Allen, concerned.

“Are you okay?”

Allen sent a reassuring smile at the approaching youth. “I am, thank you.”

Hakim was just asking about Abbas after all, and indeed, Allen had not been hurt. However, the threat that Abbas had became from a brief moment, when Allen had recognized the danger he had been in, seemed to agitate the Fourteenth.

And, bloody hell, it seemed it showed, because Hakim frowned and asked, “Are you sure? You are looking kind of… pale.”

Allen opened his mouth to deny, to reassure again; he did not want Hakim closed if he had to deal with the Fourteenth right now. However, instead of words, a pained sound left his lips as pain shot into his head.

He placed both hands over his face, holding his head, barely aware of Hakim's sharp, worried, “Allen!” as for the first time since he arrived in this world, the Fourteenth's presence came full force.

Crown Clown had not this luck. Despite gaining some strength out of the concern for its precious host, it remained true that it was the one who gave most energy to get Allen to safety. And so did Nea, even if Allen did not know of Nea's part. They should have realized it meant the Fourteenth would be the one to get better first.

Hands touched Allen's back in worry, but Allen flinched, getting out a pained, weak, “Don't-” that made Hakim pull back.

The poor young man hovered, worried, frightened for the friendly young man, unsure what to do. Allen shifted one hand, revealing half of his face; and despite the situation, he smiled reassuringly at Hakim.

“I'll… keep control, don't worry. But I don't-I would rather not risk it.” _I don't want you hurt._

Hakim didn't know whether he wanted to punch Abbas for, no doubt, causing this; or if he wanted to shake Allen and hug him because, _come on man, you are the one who need to feel better!_

“I'm getting Master Altaïr.” Hakim saw the vulnerable look that flashed across Allen's traits, and his expression softened, correctly interpreting what he saw in that look. “You feel safer around him, right? It should help you.”

Allen's body relaxed a bit, and he smiled weakly, not able to speak but nodding. Hakim hesitated, but Allen smiled again, more genuine, soft; and Hakim nodded to him before running off.

Only when Hakim was out of sight did Allen let himself slide to the side, catching himself a bit but still landing on his butt. He moved backward, pressing his back to a shelf, legs bent and hands covering his face again, forehead resting on his knees.

Timcanpy nuzzled his chest. Crown sent warmth.

The Fourteenth jabbed at his mind, darkly amused, looking for a weakness to strike through.

_No, I won't, I'm not letting anything happen to these people. I won't let you._

_To be continued…_

_Note_ : It's more or less said in this chapter, but I write Nea and the Fourteenth as not the same person. They form a single entity, but what the Fourteenth does is not necessarily what Nea wants, but what Nea wants or feels can affect how the Fourteenth acts. Long story short: The Fourteenth is more of a wild somewhat sentient entity that feeds on Nea's feelings, easily deforming them and doing things Nea himself doesn't actually want.


	20. Chapter 16

Hello~

And here it comes, Altaïr and Malik are about to have a sense of what exactly Allen is dealing with. Especially Altaïr with his Eagle Vision.

Also, as I mentioned in the end note last chapter, let's remember I write the Fourteenth and Nea as not exactly the same person (this is shown again in this chapter)~!

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 16 _

Hakim knew other assassins were watching him as he run up the stairs, but he paid no mind, he did not have the time to. There was no one in he trusted that he could see to go keep an eye on Allen, and it twisted his heart to leave the young man alone, no matter how soon he knew he would be back with the Mentor.

The young assassin had thought he had understood what it meant that Allen had someone else in him, trying to take control.

It had been a miracle he had even seen through the careful mask Allen had placed. What would have happened, if he got fooled by it, left the young man to handle this alone?

Some others might think right away of the danger, but Hakim could not. Not when Allen's frightened voice still echoed in his head, the almost agony in which the white haired had warned him off, had wanted him safe.

Hakim was not afraid of this other mind, of Allen losing control. He was afraid that if he ever came close to, Allen would take whatever measures he could to stop himself.

_Kill me_ , he had said. Hakim had never realized how truthful Allen had been.

The door to the Mentor's office was there, and Hakim threw it open. There was Master Malik, too; and both men jumped, turned to him. He was already speaking.

“Mentor! Allen-The other mind-”

Malik's eyes widened, and a sharp intake of breath came from Altaïr.

Both moved, not needing Hakim to finish, and he didn't bother. The moment they had started rushing, he had closed his mouth, turned, and lead them back to Allen.

Others stopped, seeing the urgency, and Hakim knew most might realize what could be happening.

When the first tried to follow, however, Master Altaïr's voice called, sharp and commanding, “I want no one around!”

Coupled with Malik's dark, determined look; it froze on the spot their Brothers. Hakim understood why. There was no way to know how anyone would react, and the more people they were, the more Allen would have it hard.

Hakim understood it even more, seeing how Allen had reacted to a single person, someone he knew to trust. _Or I hope he knows he can trust me…_

They reached the library, and really, it had not been that long.

Altaïr was the first to freeze. Malik did too in the next second, almost at the same time as Hakim.

Allen's skin looked… darkened, almost grey; his breathing deep in a forcefully slow manner. His entire frame was shaking, face hidden by his knees and hands holding the sides of his face.

In the silence, they could hear the faintest whimpers.

Altaïr didn't know if he felt cold, or if he felt the burn of fury. He didn't know if he felt more pain or desperation. He had expected… He had expected something like the Apple, something that was frightening because it was so simple, people froze, people fell down, people looked like their head hurt.

Allen… Allen looked so hurt, so scared, and somehow, still so determined, curling on himself to contain this being within his own body.

Altaïr was the first to move. He was kneeling in front of Allen before he knew it, his actions prompting Malik to follow, and Hakim took a few steps closer, but bless his quick thinking, he stayed a little bit away, to keep anyone else away.

This all happened in a few seconds, and then they were all frozen again. It started with Altaïr, who reached out, to touch Allen's shoulder or his head, he had not known yet.

His Eagle Vision had activated on its own, a sense of dread in his belly; and the way he froze, body growing very tense, had stopped Malik from reaching out too. Hakim, seeing both men's actions, grew careful of his movements and noises.

At first, Altaïr did not understand. The aura was the same, a lovely light blue that had swirls of silver and gold. Then he inhaled sharply. Red seemed to sparkle here and there, and Altaïr noticed the shape that he associated with Crown Clown had grown subdued, wrapped so much around Allen that it was mixing within his form.

The next moment, Altaïr startled back, falling on his butt, eyes widening even as his Eagle Vision seemed unable to retire from the sight.

Allen's aura had… flared, like a sudden fire; but what strengthened the dread, what Altaïr admitted deep within sent sparks of instinctive visceral fear, was the dark purple colour the aura took. He barely registered Malik's surprise yelp at Altaïr's action, how the man moved back and asked what was wrong.

Altaïr could only see the way this flaring aura took shape, he could only see the shadow like silhouette, all dark purple except from the large white grin and white eyes staring down at him.

_Is it what it feels like to face such primal danger?_

_Is this what Allen is keeping locked?_

The shadow like being did not stay for long, however. Altaïr flinched badly as he saw the form of a hand extend, not knowing what to expect. His eyes widened when what looked like dark purple chains, a little bit lighter than the rest of the aura, seemed to snake up around the form, one sharply coming to stop the hand.

Then the purest white shone brightly, yet Altaïr still not look away, still watched, as the white took the form of a cloak, the golden blue that came with it as it wrapped around the purple suddenly giving clarity.

His eyes lowered a bit from Crown Clown forcing the being back inside. His breath stopped for a moment, and he vaguely heard the same go for Malik.

Golden eyes stared at Altaïr from the white haired who had lifted his head slightly.

The Eagle Vision left Altaïr, a shiver going down his spine as those golden eyes still looked at him so deeply, searching, assessing; he felt for the first like the prey, and the predator flickered his gaze to the side, Malik's flinch guessed by the way those eyes flashed.

Lips twitched, curled very lightly at the corner as those eyes returned on Altaïr, and a smooth voice that was deeper than Allen's murmured almost like a purr, “So you're the ones, eh?”

Then, eyes closed and body flinched in a show of pain, only for Allen's traits to loosen and his body to lean sideways. No, not lean, he was falling, he had passed out, his skin so pale yet his cheeks flushed in fever.

Altaïr had caught Allen in his arms before he could think, a second pair of hands that he felt no surprise were Malik's catching the young man too. Both men were staring down at Allen, at the pained furrow of his brows, and Malik let go so Altaïr could push Allen closer when the young made a pained sound, head turning, seeking Altaïr's warmth.

In both their mind, those golden eyes remained.

And Altaïr knew that, no matter how menacing, how dark, the shadow had felt…

He knew that one he did not want to face was the golden eyed predator that had watched straight through his eyes and soul.

It was like a storm waiting to strike, waiting for the opening, waiting to be given reason.

And Allen Walker was the only one standing between the storm and the rest of the world who would no doubt give a reason sooner or later.

He should feel frightened, and somewhere deep down, he did. This was so much more true to the power of deities and superior beings that religions claimed to exist, so much more true than the power of the Apple.

And a single man stood strong to contain it.

His eyes must have softened, for Malik to lean back with a smile that twitched at the corner. But Altaïr did not care as he adjusted his hold on Allen, allowing the young man to rest the right side of his face against his chest. It allowed one hand to be free, and he gently brushed hairs away from the left side of his face, a slow caress down his hairs, before he stroke lightly the red scar with his thumb, from just under the eye to to the cheek, and finally, just setting his palm on Allen's cheek.

Allen sighed, body more relaxed, his traits a little less pained.

Altaïr let his Eagle Vision come back. And a smile formed, small, soft, as only blue tinted silver and gold greeted him, forming a fluffy looking cocoon that had a shape of a mask at heart's level.

“Allen will be fine.” Altaïr said softly, something loosening in his chest, even more so as the mask shape seemed to smile a bit. His expression grew serious, his smile dropped, as he lifted his head, turned his body a bit to look at Hakim. “Have you seen anything that could have started this?”

Hakim bit into his lower lips, hesitant, but scowling. Malik stood up up properly, and demanded, quietly, “Speak.”

Hakim inclined his head, and in a tone just as quiet, he admitted, “Abbas had been talking with Allen, I wasn't there from the start, but I heard him imply Allen shouldn't be left alone, and...” He trailed off, flickering his gaze to Altaïr then lowering it. “And he… implied Master Altaïr was not doing a proper job at it. Allen got angry, though did not lose his calm.”

Hakim paused, he was nibbling his lower lips, but he could feel the cold anger rolling off from both men, the quiet fury especially that Master Altaïr emitted. The Mentor's voice was deceptively calm when he urged, “Continue. You have more to say, don't you?”

Hakim swallowed. “Allen sat at the table, he seemed to continue reading his book. I… believe Abbas felt humiliated. He-” The young man fidgeted, but his scowl returned, and anger slipped in his voice. “He acted without thinking, he was walking at Allen. I stepped in his path when I heard his hidden blade come out. It's only once I stopped him that Abbas seemed to realize and left; and when I turned around, I realized Allen looked pale. As far as I can guess, he had started dealing with… this when Abbas talked to him, leaving him less focused, and the danger he realized he had been in was the final blow.”

Altaïr let out a growl, even Malik flinched lightly at how angry he could feel the man be. It was hard to contain his own, although the way his heart skipped a beat, thinking about the what if, thinking about how it could have gone without Hakim's presence.

Altaïr stood up, carrying bridal style Allen, making sure he was more or less comfortable against his shoulder. His hood hid most of his face, but the line of his mouth was thin and the muscles of his jaws jumped. “Thank you, Brother. Allen need attention for now, and I will not trust anyone but Malik and you close to him until he wakes. I will deal with Abbas later, until then, he is to stay here.”

Hakim placed a fist on his heart, bowing his head. “Yes, Mentor.”

Malik watched Altaïr for a few more moments, then, he inclined his head. “What should we say?”

“The truth. Allen was pushed enough to have the other mind try to take over; and Allen resisted, as he promised.” Altaïr's gaze softened under the hood as he looked at Allen, and it showed in how his traits loosened a bit. “We did not have to act because he managed to restrain this mind.”

Malik's eyes were a little wide as he looked up, then grew curious, and oh, definitely a little proud. “Is it what you saw, Altaïr?”

The Mentor nodded. “I believe that we… saw this other mind only because Allen was already unconscious, but the aura showed me the other mind was restrained before it could act. Otherwise, I do believe I would be dead by now.”

Because Altaïr knew. He had seen the way the shadow like form had looked at him, he had felt the malice. It had been about to make Allen hurt him. Malik would have been the next.

And that was why Allen had gotten the strength to stop it, to get his Crown Clown to stop it.

_So you are the ones, eh?_ The golden eyed predator had said. Altaïr had gotten the message.

Altaïr and Malik were the ones Allen felt protective enough to counter mind control.

One thing confused Altaïr still, however…

Who had chained the shadow like form? Why would the one that felt like a storm, the golden predator Altaïr feared more… Why would he speak with pride of Allen's protectiveness?

_To be continued..._


	21. Chapter 17

Hello~

A very fluffy chapter where it's more or less implicit that Altaïr acknowledging he's feeling something, that he might realize what these feelings can become, but not quite yet fully aware either.

Also! There is a first draft of a part of this chapter I saved as bonus, which I'll share this weekend!

Hope you enjoy~

(Reminder: I have a blog at chrisemrysfics dot tumblr dot com, it's strongly advised to keep an eye on it for my progress! And if you like my writings, you can check my original ones at chriscassar dot carrd dot co!).

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 17 _

Altaïr's lips twitched as he watched Timcanpy wiggle out of Allen's robes as soon as they were inside Altaïr's room, door closed. The little being fluttered close to Allen's head, then settled on the young man's shoulder, nuzzled to his neck.

It made Altaïr a little warm to feel the little tail that rested on his hand, somehow sensing the gratefulness from Timcanpy.

Allen was deposited on Altaïr's bed then, a chuckle left the man as the other made a small sound of protest. “I'm still here, Allen,” Altaïr whispered, passing his hand in white hairs, stopping when Allen leaned into the touch, ending up holding the young man's cheek.

Brows furrowed a bit at how warm Allen felt, but at least, his features were smoother, less pained. Altaïr sat down, not moving his hand, watching in silence the tiniest effect his presence had. A sigh had passed Allen's lips, traits more relaxed, and the heat under his palm lessened.

Was the faint fever a sign of this other mind?

His gaze flickered to Timcanpy, nested on Allen's chest now. The way he was angled, Altaïr knew he was being watched.

“This fever… Is it the other one?” The golem made a nod movement. “So is Allen better now?” Timcanpy did a sort of shrug, but the sound coo he made felt reassuring. It took a few moments for Altaïr to guess what it might mean. “Ah, he's good for now, but we'll see..?”

The golem nodded again, and the silence returned. Altaïr's gaze was locked on the peaceful face, the way it rested in his palm. His thumb moved, stroking lightly.

Why did he care in such a way? He was not one to open his heart easily. As much as he knew he had been able to get Allen to open up to him, to trust him, the young man longing for someone to protect him, to make him feel safe again, to feel accepted…

Truly, Altaïr felt it was Allen who had control. If Altaïr wanted the young man to speak to him, share with him, trust him; it was all because he was selfish, prideful. He wanted this gentle yet strong heart to accept him, and he felt bolder and bolder each times Allen did.

He wanted, so much; and he was not sure what. But such was Allen's effect, wasn't it?

Malik was not immune. The young assassin Hakim was not immune. Not even Abbas was, if in different ways. None of the Brothers were immune.

Allen commanded respect, whether it caused admiration or caution. For all he had shown obvious signs of exhaustion and loneliness, the steel in his gaze and in his stance spoke more to them than words.

He was not a sheep among wolves. He was a lion, brave and regal, prowling among them languidly, and his bite would be worst than theirs if his patience tested. _Good thing that Allen seems to have the patience of a saint_ , Altaïr mused, almost amused.

But in these thoughts, Altaïr knew. There was no need to question how he felt, because he had his answer. He respected Allen, had seen his strength and weakness both, yet knew it was only a glimpse. He wanted to know more, see more; he wanted Allen to prove again and again that his strength would win, that his weaknesses only made him more human.

Amber eyes peered at Timcanpy from under the hood. The golem had not stopped watching him. Watching…

“Tell me, little one: would you show me what happened in the library?”

Timcanpy grinned. And then he opened his mouth wide.

* * *

 

Altaïr sat with his head bowed, fingers linked together as his arms rested on his knees. Allen's presence was close to his back, the young man had turned on his side, shifted closer, but had not awakened yet.

_You can dislike me, distrust me, watch me if that soothe your concerns. But don't imply ever again that Altaïr is not doing good. You have no idea how it is to be in his place, so with all the politeness I can, please do shut up._

When was the last time anyone defended his honour in such a way?

Malik had given his support, he was not afraid to put in place anyone that needed it, including Altaïr himself. Rauf had made it clear he was on his side, had always believed in him and never treated him differently. Many did look up to him.

But when was the last time anyone had looked so fierce, so offended for him? When was the last time anyone looked more angry for his behalf than for themselves? How could Allen be so selfless? Did he believe this much in Altaïr?

He inclined his head so he was able to look at Allen.

_I'll… keep control, don't worry. But I don't-I would rather not risk it._

Altaïr closed his eyes, breathing in slowly.

_Allen's skin looked… darkened, almost grey; his breathing deep in a forcefully slow manner. His entire frame was shaking, face hidden by his knees and the hands holding the sides of his face._

_In the silence, they could hear the faintest whimpers._

Altaïr released his breath, opening his eyes again, head low and lifting one hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

It was not self control that Altaïr needed to teach Allen. It was not to keep the other mind in check, it was not to be careful.

What Allen needed was to be taught his life _**mattered**_.

Oh, Altaïr knew that Allen was genuine in his selflessness, his protectiveness. But the Master Assassin was not blind either; Allen did not carry his own life on the same level as others. Reckless and self sacrificial, in how he had been on his own, in how he defended others, how he didn't want others close when he was becoming the danger, no matter if said others could help.

It twisted his stomach, made something suffer in in his heart. Altaïr wanted Allen to value his own life, plain and simple. He wanted him to lose this haunted edge, to lose how unsurprised he would be when others treated him with caution or even hostility.

Altaïr thought he had been making Allen feel safe, protected. But for all it might have worked, it was Allen who was protecting Altaïr.

A hand touched his own, and Altaïr startled, amber eyes snapping up the arm. Silver eyes still a bit dazed from sleep watched him, brows lowered a bit with the worry shining on those eyes.

“Altaïr..? Are you okay?”

The man felt his heart skip a beat. _Worry about yourself, damn it!_ He opened his mouth, except something akin to panic showed when those silver eyes widened, alertness sharply returned.

“Fourteenth-! Is Hakim okay? Did anything happen?” Allen asked, voice urgent but soft, hesitant, expression starting to crumble. “Did I...”

Altaïr's hand covered Allen, stopping the words. “All is fine, Allen. You fainted by the time I was there. No one else was around.”

A shaky sigh left the young man, shoulders slumping. His eyes lowered. “I'm glad…” He was nibbling at his lower lip, swallowing. When he lifted his gaze again, the expression had grown more vulnerable, more… pained, desperately shamed.

Altaïr knew what Allen would say before he did. It was written in every lines of his face. _Sorry. I'm sorry I'm a danger. I'm a danger._ Altaïr saw the moment it was threatening to crush Allen, the realization of a fact that felt true, complex, yet false. _I'm a danger._

_No, you're not. You're_ _ **in**_ _danger._ _ **You**_ _a_ _re the only one who really is in danger._

He let Allen got as far as, “I-Maybe I should-Maybe you should lock me-”

_No, you shouldn't be locked; but you've been locking yourself more than any physical jail could, haven't you?_

He let Allen pause, swallow, grow more in his crumbled desperation, show the slight fear at the mere idea, the pained defeat.

_You fool._

Then Altaïr's hand turned, fingers around Allen's wrist, pulling him forward. His other arm wrapped around Allen's frame, and his hand moved to the back of Allen's head, pressing his face into his chest.

The young man tensed in surprise, almost frozen. A shuddering breath left Allen's lips as he felt lips touch his temple.

“Lock you? For what? For being the one who suffers? For staying strong?” The hand at Allen's back moved up and down, and the fingers of the one at the back of his head played with his hairs. His body startled to tremble, yet he tried to not let the tears form. Altaïr could see it. “I don't want you to mention ever again that you should be restrained. I promised I would look out for you, help you stay in control and go back. So trust me to know what is best for you, okay?”

Allen swallowed, his hand came to rest against Altaïr's chest, fingers curling, clinging. He hide his face more, pressing closer, hesitant, nodding once. He screamed hope as much as vulnerability, and something in Altaïr's heart broke as much as it softened, warmed up.

He tightened his hold, lips lifting as Timcanpy nested in their laps. He released a sigh, allowing his cheek to rest on top of Allen's head. “I'm glad you're okay.”

Those were few words, but it broke the control Allen had been trying to keep; and the young man finally cried, shaking.

Altaïr held him close all the while, knowing Allen desperately needed to let it all out, not blind to the part of him that needed this, too.

Because when he had given Allen those words, _I'm glad you are okay_ , it had hit Altaïr. He could have lost Allen, the next time he saw him, it could have not been him. It could have been his body, still there, breathing, warm; but not his mind, not his heart.

He could not decide if it would have been better or worst than if Allen had just died. Surely, Allen would have still been in there, to save, to call out to… Except, hadn't he told them that if the other managed to take control, it would mean Allen himself died?

I _won't allow it. I swear, I will never allow you to lose._ _I refuse to see it happen_.

Altaïr just had to make Allen believe in this, too. If Allen could not trust himself, if Allen did not care for his own life; then Altaïr would make him care for the trust he could place in Altaïr.

Altaïr would care for Allen's life until Allen did so on his own.

_To be continued..._


	22. Bonus chapter: Dropped idea for chapter 17

Hello~

Here is a bonus chapter! This was the original way I had written the scene that follows Allen's almost saying he should be locked, and you will recognize the first line.

You will probably yelled at me, both with “omg” and “why” from discovering how it originally went and how I ended up deciding, no, I'm not keeping it, changing it to a hug.

Ultimately, I still felt it was too soon. As well as they've gotten along, I do want to have them develop a sense of friendship before it becomes more, and for them both to actually have a full realization of feelings before acting on them. Yes, they're getting obvious sign of attractions (from the start, even), but there's a difference between attraction and feelings.

So yeah, as you might guess from the way I've spoken, this bonus features a kiss that ended up decided was too soon. But hey: enjoy it as bonus~

(Also I awkwardly realize Altaïr says comforting things in this that I didn't keep, you can pretend Altaïr does say those to Allen off screen at some point, or maybe I'll add it in another chapter.)

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Bonus chapter: Dropped idea for chapter 17 _

Then Altaïr turned his hand, wrapped his fingers around Allen's hand, and pulled as he half turned. His other hand came to rest at Allen's waist when the young man was pulled forward, guiding his body to fall against his chest.

He tilted his head, look into those wide silver eyes with his half lidded ones, until his lips met Allen's and he closed his eyes.

Fingers interlocked with Allen's extended hand, he pressed a little more their lips together, hand on his waist slipping to let his arm wrap around his lower back. He captured Allen's upper lip between his owns as their chests pressed closer.

A sound left the younger man, a gasp, a keening whine, and then Allen's lips pressed back, hesitant, but the press of his body desperate.

No one had told Altaïr he could feel passion for a man. But passion he felt, sensing the way Allen's body screamed of longing for caring touches, for such a unique show of care; and Altaïr let out a small growl, enjoying the shiver he felt pass through Allen.

He nipped Allen's lip, the tip of his tongue licking soon after, and Allen let out a little sound, parting his lips. Altaïr pressed their lips together again, own lips parted, capturing Allen's lip again, and again.

He let them pause, lips locked still, then opened his eyes, leaning back faintly. Allen's own eyes opened, staring back at him, waiting.

“You shall stray your blade from the innocents,” Altaïr murmured, watching the flicker of surprise, the hint of vulnerable hope; his lips lifted at the corner. “I am a dangerous person, I am an assassin. Yet, this is the first tenant I learn, the most important to follow. A man is not judged by what he could do, but what he does. Isn't it what you said yourself? Should you be killed for something you haven't done?”

Allen let out a startled breath of laughter. His expression had softened. “I promised I'll keep control, didn't I?”

Altaïr's little smile got wider. “And there is no shame in following your promise.” His eyes grew half lidded. “There is no shame in resisting. No, in fact, I'm proud of you, Allen.” He watched those eyes widened, could almost guess the way Allen's heart skipped a beat, watched the blush that took over his cheeks. “Don't judge yourself on what you could do. All that matters is what you have done; and all you have done is refuse your body to his control.”


	23. Chapter 18

Hello~

Here we have the next chapter, and let me tell you I really enjoyed writing this one. There's Malik and Allen interaction, and more of Altaïr and Allen, but most importantly, Altaïr confronts Abbas~!

A quick note (that you'll understand once you're reading): Allen only suggests about thanking, Malik might have suggested about bringing some guilt in, but neither actually told him what to say. So what Altaïr says is all Altaïr, and he's simply applying the two advices he's gotten, but the words are all his.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 18 _

A gentle knock at the door made Allen tense for a brief moment, but the hand that rubbed down his back chased away the tenseness, a soothing gesture that seemed to tell Allen he didn't have to worry. Indeed, when Altaïr called out for the person to enter, it was Malik that opened the door.

Right now, it was the only other person Allen didn't mind close, someone he wanted to see. Allen wanted to see Hakim, know the young man was truly alright; but right now… No, right now, Allen didn't want anyone close.

Except the two men present.

“How are you feeling?” Malik asked after he closed the door, moving closer, gaze taking into the hold Altaïr had around the young man.

Allen smiled at Malik, but he could feel it was a little weak. “I'm… myself.”

A breath of laughter left Altaïr, earning the confused eyes of both. “That you are, worrying about others rather than yourself.”

Pale cheeks flushed at being called out like this, ducking his head. Malik's own little laugh came, followed by a sigh. Malik's hand rested at the top of his head, and then the man had crouched down to look into Allen's eyes.

Altaïr had shifted a bit, but the subtle feel of fingers clenching his shirt told him Allen needed his presence close still.

“What you did was brave, and very stupid.” Malik started, making Allen gaze at him with shock and confusion. The man felt a barely hidden glare come from Altaïr, but Malik ignored him. “Hakim told us you tried to hide what was happening. He didn't realize it back then, and might not have realized.” Malik paused, pursing his lips.

His gaze had softened though. “How are we supposed to help you, if you don't let us?”

A sound came from Allen, who did not know how to reply. It felt like it had been so long since he even had anyone to count on. “I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...” He trailed off, shrugging.

Malik couldn't help the fond little smile that formed, even if his heart felt pained. He stood up, ruffling Allen's hairs. “It's okay now. The most important is that you are fine.”

Allen looked up at Malik, offering a shy smile as he saw the one Malik wore. His gaze flickered to Altaïr, which made the Master Assassin drop the little dark look he had been sending Malik. It took all of Allen's willpower to do nothing more than blink as he realized how… petulant Altaïr looked. Almost jealous.

His lips twitched, and a quick, subtle glance told him Malik had allowed the amusement to show when Altaïr had shifted his focus to Allen.

_Is Altaïr jealous because he didn't get to say what Malik did?_

The thought made Allen's chest fill with warmth, and his smile was a little more genuine. It immediately made Altaïr soften.

“Malik is right, Allen. Don't hesitate if you need us, by Allah, you can punch anyone who tries to stop you if you have to. They all know I'm watching over you, they shouldn't endanger you.” Something dark crossed Altaïr's expression, and he looked back at Malik, not having missed the surprised flush on Allen's face as the young man glanced down with a small nod. “Where is he, by the way?”

Malik inclined his head, while Allen snapped his gaze up, looking between the two of them with a narrowed look. “It seems he had gone to train. Rauf is keeping an eye on him right now.”

Altaïr nodded. He indulged in a few more seconds of keeping Allen close, then he moved to pull back and stand up.

Allen's hand caught his wrist, forcing his gaze to meet Allen's. The young man was nipping his bottom lip, hesitant and looking worried. “What are you going to do?”

Altaïr looked back, silent. Then he put his hand over Allen's, gently making him let go. “Abbas provoked you, and he drew his hidden blade with unknown intents. I cannot ignore this.”

Allen allowed his hand to be removed, growing more troubled. Then, his expression shifted, determined. “You aren't going to punish him, right?” He asked in a soft tone, when those silver eyes were sharp, searching.

Altaïr tilted his head, returning the look with his own searching gaze. “What would you have me do?”

Allen looked away. “I don't want to make you do anything.” He mumbled.

Altaïr crossed his arms, shifting his weight to his other foot, giving a pointed look that he knew Allen felt from how his cheeks coloured. “What would you do?”

Allen stayed silent, which made Altaïr's traits twitch. He tried not to smile in victory when Allen let out a sigh.

“If it's a matter that can't be ignored, a simple talk can be effective. Abbas… looks like someone who can use acts against you. And who might be waiting for an act he can use.”

_You are really clever, aren't you?_ Altaïr mused, unable to prevent the sense of approval within him. He said nothing at first, waiting for Allen to finally look at him again. He met those worried, hesitant eyes with his firm gaze.

“That is a good input.” Allen seemed to relax as Altaïr's expression lost its sharp edge. “Malik?”

The man almost jumped as the attention was on him suddenly. Almost. “He's right. While Abbas should not have drawn his hidden blade in a manner that left his intents unknown, it will look bad if you are too harsh.” His mouth thinned as he continued, tone showing dislike, “He did nothing but speak with Allen. If you react too strongly, it will work against you.” _He will know you are protective of Allen_ _enough to lose_ _self-_ _control_ _._

It did not please Altaïr, and part of him wished to make it clear how much he would not allow Allen to be messed with. So what if his reaction was too strong? So what if they realized he would not stand idle to any wrongs done to Allen?

He had not realized his fingers had tightened, or that his expression had betrayed how murderous he felt. He had not seen Allen move closer. Hands rested on his crossed arms, making Altaïr blink and look down, then up to meet Allen's soft smile.

His heart did something in his chest. His anger left him like a leaf in the wind.

“Thank you, Altaïr. But if he is looking to make you look bad, he isn't going to win.” Now that little smile took a devilish edge. “Why give him the satisfaction?”

Malik snorted. Altaïr felt his lips form a little smirk.

“Now that is quite pleasing to hear. So what do you suggest I say?”

Allen's smile grew wider.

* * *

 

None of the assassins noticed their Mentor at first, standing to the side for a bit, watching with crossed arms. However, it did not last, and as more Novices started to send looks, Altaïr could see the tension that grew in Abbas.

Rauf, of course, had spotted him before the Novices, but had not reacted. Altaïr felt something close to amusement as he realized Hakim was there, training with his friends, in a spot that let them watch Abbas.

Finally, Altaïr moved, heading to the man that had once been a friend. Assassins moved out of his way, and some grew slower in their training, watching. Rauf was quick to call to them, push them to work harder; but did not react as Abbas lowered his weapon, his training partner leaving after a startled look at the approaching Master Assassin.

Abbas turned to face Altaïr, expression carefully neutral. “Mentor,” He greeted, not able to hide the swallow as Altaïr stopped at maybe three steps from Abbas.

“Abbas,” Altaïr replied in a cool tone, deep down taking pleasure in the light flinch, and the faint wary confusion in those eyes. So Abbas had indeed been expecting Altaïr's temper to get the best of him. “You have talked with Allen earlier, haven't you?”

Abbas shifted on his feet, gaze narrowed as he nodded. “I crossed path with the boy in the library, yes. We… exchanged words.”

Altaïr crossed his arms, tilting his head, but it was the faint smile at the corner of his lips that bothered Abbas. “Yes, I heard about this too. It seems you have advices for me on how to handle his case?”

Abbas started to feel thrown off, uncertain of where this was going. “I have expressed my opinion before, Altaïr.”

Altaïr's smile grew wider, amber eyes staring up at him from under the hood, and Abbas couldn't control the shiver that went down his spine. “You did. I wonder then, why you felt it necessary to express it to Allen again, and to not come to me with your advices.”

Never had Abbas felt more… threatened by Altaïr that in this precise moment. He did not if it was the way he acted, or the quiet fury he still felt from the Mentor, he did not know if that was the matter of Allen; but all his instincts screamed to back off.

“I… simply meant to talk to him, and I was not sure how you would take my advices. It might… have come as more offensive as intended.”

Altaïr's eyes seemed to grow colder for a moment, then it was gone, but his smile had dropped. “It's one of way of putting it. You lost your cool, Abbas. You and I both know you were not thinking when you drew your hidden blade.”

The last few words were hissed, and for a brief moment, Altaïr's anger showed again. Abbas knew he was walking a dangerous line, one that he did not quite understand right now, with Altaïr acting in ways Abbas was not used to.

So Abbas inclined his head. “My apologies, Mentor. I will see that it doesn't happen again.”

Altaïr looked at Abbas without expression for a few moment, sending nerves all over again in the man. Then, he uncrossed his arms, and one hand moved to rest on Abbas' shoulder. The man tensed, straightened, sending a confused look at Altaïr.

The Mentor was smiling again, lips slightly curled at the corner. “Thank you Abbas. Next time you want to look out for me or give me your opinion, you should come to me.” His fingers tightened slightly, Altaïr leaned closer lightly. “And thank you for letting Hakim deal with Allen after your talk. I am not sure what would have happened if you had stayed.”

Abbas shuddered. The words were grateful, but those eyes… Abbas wanted to go as far away as possible from those eyes. “I… Did the boy..?”

Everyone had soon known that Hakim had rushed to get Altaïr and Malik, all three returning to the library with orders not to follow, but Hakim had not said anything about it. Gossips had travelled too, about Altaïr carrying Allen to his room, the young man passed out and looking slightly feverish.

No one had said it outloud, but the guess had been that it might have been the issue they had been warned of.

“Did Allen had to stop an attempt at taking his freewill? It is indeed the case, and it seems he did all he could to make sure you would be out of possible harm.” Altaïr paused, not showing the satisfaction at the troubled surprise in Abbas' eyes. His hand dropped from the man's shoulder. “In fact, he resisted until I arrived. But you see, you expressed your worries clearly, and he has a tendency to try comforting others, at the cost of his own sake. We are lucky Hakim noticed, who know how long he might have stayed alone, trying to stay himself?”

Why did each word felt like a stab wound? It had been so long since Abbas had felt… guilt. Yes, he started feel guilt, shame; he knew that Altaïr was not thanking him in full sincerity, knew what he was doing.

It was working. Because it was the truth, wasn't it? Abbas could recall it now, the too careful neutrality, the shadow behind Allen's gaze, the growing paleness of his skin.

He knew what Altaïr was not verbalizing, too. It was his fault. If Allen had lost control, it would have been his fault, for pushing him, and for keeping a blind eye.

Abbas swallowed. “It's… good Hakim was there, then. How… How is Allen?”

Altaïr hummed, crossing his arms again. “Resting, his fever is gone and his headache faint, but his body is weak still.” His mouth grew into a thin line. “It seems restraining this other mind takes a lot out of him. Be glad you were not here, Abbas. Once you see how it truly is for him, you don't forget it.”

Abbas tried to look at Altaïr's expression, but the man had inclined his head. Still, he saw in his traits, in the line of his mouth, something… sad. Pained, even.

How had Allen looked, for the Master Assassin to say this? What did he mean, when he spoke of fever, headache, weakened body?

“I… see.” Abbas could not prevent the flinch as Altaïr glanced up, the cold look screaming of, _no, you don't_. The frustration he had felt for so long, the anger, was not so easily cooled however.

As Altaïr nodded to himself and turned to leave, Abbas voiced what he still had in his heart. “Wouldn't it be better to secure him? For his own sake and ours. As you say, who knows what would have happe-”

Abbas cut himself off as Altaïr, who had stopped and went more rigid, turned sideways.

In this precise moment, Abbas realized that during all these years, be it their broken friendship, calling him out in what he still believed were lies, the distance he put, the opposition he gave with his dealings of Al Mualim's body and the Apple…

Not once had Altaïr showed him true anger, frustration maybe, but never fury. Never had Altaïr returned the hate.

He realized this because in this precise moment, Abbas saw wrath and cold dislike in those ambers eyes.

“You of all people have no right to comment on the circumstances. Don't make me think you wanted him to lose control.” Altaïr's low voice carried still, the threat hidden within the words sending chills down Abbas' spine. “Don't make me question who would have killed Allen if he had lost himself to the other mind. Stray your blade from the Innocent. Who, do you think, followed this tenant the most out of you two?”

Ice seemed to take root into his heart, mind torn between indignation, and queasiness. He wanted to scream it was false, his stomach clutched at the thought of the logic behind it; he wanted to say Allen Walker was the source of danger, he feared the barely controlled storm standing in front of him.

He understood, there and then.

He looked to the side briefly.

Allen and Malik's forms were at a window.

Were they waiting for Altaïr to execute him, or were they worried Altaïr would snap?

Did Allen manipulate Altaïr, or did he stop Altaïr?

His whole mind froze, he heart seemed to stop for a beat, at the slow smile that formed on Altaïr's face from the briefest moment.

“Come tell me, if you ever know whether you need to thank him or not. Then I will know whether to forgive you or not.”

And with those words, Altaïr left.

_To be continued..._


	24. Chapter 19

Hello~

First, very important note!  
The next chapter isn't yet written (it's started but no more than the start of it), which mean that I don't know when I will update next. Even if I do happen to update in time next week, it might be pure luck and the update after takes longer. I might also choose to try writing a few chapters and pause updates while I do, but that's only if I can see myself write at least two or three chapters in a short amount of time.  
Worry not though! Yes, updates might grow slower, but Assassin's Light still one of my three main stories to update.

Now with this chapter: have some fluff~ All of the main bonds have their little moment, Malik&Allen, Hakim&Allen, Altaïr/Allen, Malik&Altaïr. And it's small, but there is a hint of the next little arc for this story, of what is the next thing they will all have to deal with. Hint: it's not anything that is stated clearly. The next chapter will put the spotlight on it, so you will know what to look at next chapter, but I am curious to see if you can pick up the more subtle hints in this chapter~

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 19 _

Malik had a smile at the corner of his lips as he watched how Allen nipped his lower lips, gaze focused on the form of Altaïr approaching Abbas. He looked better, colours had returned to his face, and his heart warmed as he noticed the young man sought some comfort from standing closer to Malik.

They watched in silence as Altaïr spoke with Abbas, and Malik felt… impressed. He knew well Altaïr, and knew how angry the man had truly been about this matter. His own judgement had been clouded for a few moments, a vicious part of him wanting to let Altaïr punish Abbas. However, Allen had been more important, for both of them; and the young man had indirectly, or even directly, calmed them both.

The suggestions he gave Altaïr had helped too; and Malik still marvelled that this kind young man could also be such a little imp. It was not malicious, but it would certainly jab well at Abbas; and oh, Malik could see the signs it was effective.

Both of them straightened as Altaïr had almost left, only to pause and turn. Malik frowned, able to see how angry Altaïr got, but at least he did not do anything. He would have to know what exactly the man had spoken though, just in case.

Allen let out a long sigh. “It seems like it went well, right?”

Malik gazed down, amused at how hopeful Allen looked. “It seems so.” He lifted a hand to ruffle Allen's hairs. “You advised him well, Allen.”

Cheeks coloured as Allen ducked his head, pleased smile on his face. “I didn't want him to deal with more consequences.” He whispered, the blush on his cheeks a little embarrassed now.

“He's lucky.” Malik replied, though looked out the window as Allen lifted his gaze. “You're good to him.” He added in a softer voice.

Allen watched the man for a few seconds, then he smiled. “You care for him, too.”

Malik startled, and threw a look at Allen as if he was crazy. “I-” But that smile made his shoulders loosen. “He's not bad, once he got his head out of his ass.”

Allen couldn't help the chuckles. “Altaïr mentioned that, too. How he wasn't the same some weeks ago.”

Malik snorted. “Understatement.” Some of the resentment that still sometimes bubbled in his chest must have leaked, because Allen frowned at him, worry in his eyes. “He's not the same man as he was. The man he was before… was someone who needed to learn humility.”

Malik unconsciously rubbed at the shoulder of his missing arm, and he saw the moment Allen made a connection, the young man gazing at the stump, frowning before his eyes lit with a guess. His eyes flickered up, unsure, not wanting to ask; but Malik nodded once before he looked out the window again.

“He made mistakes, that costed me greatly, and for a while I couldn't forgive.” A sigh passed his lips. “Then he changed, and I… it wasn't the same man. The man he is now, I know he wouldn't have-” He stopped, breathing in slowly. “I trust the man he is now.”

A hand touched gently Malik's back, and Allen's smile was warm. “And he trusts you, I can see it. Maybe… The man he is now is his reply to you; atoning by being a better man for the rest of his life.”

Malik widened his eyes. He… hadn't thought of this. They had not spoken again of this, avoiding the subject; loosing his arm was one thing, but the death of his brother… But Kadar would approve of Altaïr becoming a better man, although his brother had always idolized Altaïr. It hurt, and yet, he shared the feeling.

To see Altaïr genuinely try to be a better man, it was the silent respect he could give to the mistakes he did, to what he took from Malik.

The ache in his heart, the hole, could not be replaced. He would never stop looking for someone who he wouldn't see anymore.

But… It could be soothed, in part by the very person standing beside him. Didn't he just do it, after all?

The man finally let out a small laugh. “How are you so wise, Allen?”

There was a sad smile given, and Malik cursed himself mentally. Allen seemed to see the slight guilt in his gaze, because he snorted and, of all things, poked his cheek. “Someone needs to be around here.”

Malik blinked. Then blinked again. Allen's smile grew wider, a grin with eyes full of impishness. Malik narrowed his eyes. “You-”

“Allen!”

Both men jumped at the voice, and they turned, they had recognized the voice by then, and Allen was smiling already as Hakim stood a few feet from them, wide eyes hopeful but hesitating to approach.

For a brief second, Allen felt his heart sink. Then he noticed how Hakim seemed to lean forward then back, hands twitching and eyes screaming of hope, and Malik whispered just for Allen's ears, “He's just worried you need your space.”

Allen's smile brightened, and in a gentle, happy voice he called back, “Hakim,” and with shyness showing a bit in his eyes, he opened his arms slightly.

The young man's eyes brightened, smile bright and happy, and Hakim darted forward, Allen hugged in his arms in the next moment. Allen had always felt tense with physical contact, but Hakim… felt safe. Hakim had saved him.

“I'm so glad you're okay!”

Allen smiled, managing to swallow down the tears he felt coming from the warm feeling in his chest, and his arms wrapped more tightly around Hakim. “It's thanks to you, Hakim.”

Malik could see Hakim's eyes, watched as his expression softened and his cheeks warmed, arms also tightening. “We're friends; of course I would help you.”

Allen's own smile grew softer, and his eyes flickered up, heart skipping a beat as Altaïr stood there, watching them hug with crossed arms, unable to cover the fondness in his amber eyes. And Allen could read it, could read the contentment of Allen being accepted like this, cared for.

And like this, Allen's heart truly soothed, mind calm and peaceful.

* * *

 

“Are you sure?”

A sigh. “Mentor, Sir Altaïr, _yes_.”

Malik disguised his snort with a cough, looking away at the annoyed glance sent his way, Hakim half hiding behind Master Malik as his lips twitched to contain the amusement.

“If you are-” Altaïr started as he directed his gaze on Allen again, only to stop himself at the deadpan look in those silver eyes. He cleared his throat. “I'm sure Hakim won't be the only one happy to see you.”

Allen offered a beaming smile. “Thank you, Mentor!”

Three men blinked as they processed the sigh of Allen throwing his arms to wrap around Altaïr's neck to hug the man, needing to go on the tip of his toes to-

Ah yes. To kiss the Mentor's cheek.

And then he was gone, passing by Malik, making Hakim yelp as he caught his friend's wrist to drag him.

Altaïr placed a hand on his cheek, staring down with such a blank stare Malik knew the man had stop functioning. Then again, Malik was not doing better. Considering what they had seen of Allen, the sudden energy, the shameless act…

Altaïr frowned and his mouth was thin, expression troubled. “We need to watch him.”

Malik sigh, shoulders slumping. “I agree. I don't think he's faking, but he is definitely acting it up.” His lips twitched as Altaïr looked up, eyes brighter with what he dared to call hope. “To ask if he can train, and to mask with vibrant energy, he must feel a need to appear strong again.”

Altaïr brows furrowed deeply, his gaze dropping as he muttered, “But he didn't lose strength...”

Malik snorted. “Then you tell him, I'm sure hearing _you_ say so will help him.” He pretended not to notice the long look Altaïr sent at that comment. “Go to the training grounds, I will take care of your work. He needs you.”

The man's expression shifted, grateful, shifting his weight, hesitant, and he breathed out in relief as Malik waved his hand, looking away. “Thank you, Malik. I will make sure you can rest tomorrow.”

The man inclined his head, and started to leave. Altaïr had moved too, but he stopped when he saw Malik do so himself. The man turned his head lightly.

“I will never forgive you if you hurt Allen.” Altaïr tensed, confused but listening. “You are not the same man who took Kadar from me, and you care for Allen at least.” Oh, Altaïr didn't think the jab would hurt like this, but it did, and he winced, a bit glad Malik wasn't really looking at him. “But he leans on you, has faith in you; he is aware you are not without faults yet he takes you for the good he sees. All it would take is an action, a word, in temper or thoughtlessness, to hurt him. And you know as well as I do that he would sooner smile it off than admit to it.”

Altaïr shifted his gaze down, to Malik's clenched fist, brows furrowed. Careful and slow, he replied, “I… do not intend to cause him harm in any way.”

Malik snorted. “I know, novice. Like I never doubted you never intended to cause Kadar's death.” Altaïr inhaled sharply, and Malik exhaled longly. He shook his head, and looked forward again. “… My apologies. I know you changed, Altaïr, but-”

“-Not enough yet?” Altaïr cut in. He forced himself to loose the sharp edge of his tone at the sight of Malik's tense frame. “Malik, you said it yourself. I care. You don't have to worry about me taking him away from you, too.”

Malik choked on the sharp breath he took in, lifting his hand to rub his palm over his face. _What am I doing_? He heard Altaïr take a step toward him, and he waved his hand again.

“I'll take the paperworks to my room, I'll rest if I need to.” He assured with a soft voice. It was also the closest he would admit to being aware his mind had not been in a bright place.

Altaïr stayed silent for a few beats, watching intently the one he could call a real friend, then he closed his eyes. “There's nothing urgent, so it can wait if it has to. I… Would you like us to get you later?”

Altaïr couldn't see it, but he knew Malik smiled faintly when he breathed out a laugh. “How can I miss our meal ritual? Allen would hunt me down if I did.” That earned a snort, and Malik's frame relaxed again finally.

Without more words, he waved a final time, and walked off.

Altaïr watched him go, frown troubled, eyes piercing.

_To be continued..._


	25. Chapter 20

Hello~!

I had this chapter written almost fully for a while, but I didn't have the energy to sit and work on Assassin's Light, and then I did but after a few lines I realized I could split scenes. The last scene, I decided to keep it in this chapter, and then the other scene I planned after, it fitted better the start of next chapter (and it helped the next chapter have a good start, and roll from there). So in the end I had to sit and write the last scene, though I was able to do it not long after.

Here we have a bit more of Rauf&Allen interactions, the Allen protection squad is apparently slowly forming. Also, more little hints of something, it get obvious who will be at the centre, but I do believe there's no real hints yet as to what the issue will be. Which is a hint in itself, that is, that it's not just a passing mood~ That's all I'll say~

I hope you enjoy, thank you for your patience!

* * *

 

**Assassin's Light**

_ Chapter 20 _

Rauf watched Altaïr go, releasing the breath he had been holding. When Abbas walked away once the Mentor was inside, Rauf let him go. He shot a slight glare as murmurs went through the Novices, but didn't comment. They went back to their training and spars.

Meanwhile, he looked back on the past few minutes, and felt pride bubble in his chest. He had never stopped believing in Altaïr, and had seen the way the man had evolved. He knew that their Mentor had genuine goodwill toward their Brotherhood, and he had felt compassion, knowing Altaïr might have been the one who had been most affected by the betrayal Al Mualim had inflicted to them.

To have been a Templar all along, to have wanted to eliminate the others and to treat the Assassins as his personal mercenaries… The last part had been one not everyone had been blind to, but they had believed in his claim of protecting freedom. It had been true, at some point.

But without Altaïr, who know where their Brotherhood would have gone? They had been the Order of the Assassins, more than the Brotherhood, and only now that Altaïr only referred them as the Brotherhood did Rauf realize how a simple term changed the way he felt.

Rauf had faith in Altaïr, always had, and he felt happy to see more and more of their Brothers watched the man with growing respect.

Rauf felt fond of how this had been happening more since Allen Walker arrived. The young man was a force of his own, a mystery that Rauf had briefly worried about, but he had only needed to observe to see the goodwill and strength hidden behind those careful smiles and guarded eyes.

It was a young man that would sooner hurt himself that hurt any of them, and today, he might not have been present, it might not have been confirmed, but Rauf only had to see the exchange to know that Allen had made good of his promise, had proven Rauf's thoughts.

He wished he knew how Allen was doing however, but… At least, if Altaïr had not lost his temper, Rauf felt hope that the young man was doing well enough.

Still, when Hakim came back with Allen of all people beside him, the young man smiling and being the one to pull the young Assassin along, Rauf felt something loosen in his chest. He noticed the shadows behind those eyes, the strain of the smile, the almost desperate need to show energy.

But that was so painfully _Allen_ that it made Rauf feel… happy. It **was** Allen. He was still _there_. Still that infuriating young man trying to soothe others.

All he needed was to be looked after, and while he knew Altaïr would take that role well, Rauf decided it was his turn for a bit.

Especially as he realized Allen meant to train.

Rauf sighed. _Really, Allen Walker?_

* * *

 

Allen felt his chest flood with warmth and his throat tighten with the same warmth as he found himself surrounded by the time he stopped in the training pits. Hakim's friends were the first to have joined them, but a few others had come, welcoming him back and wondering about his health in equal measure.

He threw a look at Hakim, but damn the little rascal, he only watched from the sidelines, arms crossed and amused grin on his face. Allen's reassuring smile did not falter, soothing them all with genuine sheepishness, _I'm fine, that's kind of something I expected, but hopefully won't happen so soon again._

He would tell them all they had no need to worry anymore, but it would be lying, and he understood enough of the Assassins to know they wouldn't be blind to such a blatant lie. Though, he felt he could still have tried to say something else, because now a few made him feel like the Matron was looking at him, twitches in their traits.

Starting by the training master, Rauf, and when did he arrive, and holy hell, he couldn't help wilting a bit under the long deadpan stare.

“I am glad to see you up and hear you are doing fine, but I hope you are not here to train. Right?”

_Fuck_ , Allen thought, sensing more stares that screamed _are you serious_ and hearing Hakim barely hide his laughter under fake coughs.

Allen widened his eyes very innocently, forming a slow, hopeful smile. “I'll be careful?”

Rauf's lips twitched. The flicker of his eyes upward was the sole warning before a hand rested at the top of Allen's head.

Altaïr's voice came, something resigned within it, almost long suffering, making Allen pout faintly. “Give up, Rauf. He's determined.”

Allen shifted, turning his head lightly to narrow his eyes up at Altaïr while he heard Rauf's sigh, and a few barely restrained chuckles around them. Before he could comment though, and yes Altaïr saw that glint of vengeful mischief _thank you very much but no_ , the Mentor ruffled his hairs, making him yelp.

“So I'll watch over training, and you can handle Allen's own.” Altaïr told Rauf, though there was the hint of question in his tone.

Allen threw a look at Altaïr, _you did not just one-up me_ , while Rauf smiled and bowed his head lightly. “With pleasure, Mentor.”

_Fuck_ , Allen thought again, with feelings. Except he couldn't stop the warmth spreading again.

To still see the same acceptance, the protectiveness, maybe even stronger; when they had all been reminded of the danger lurking within his presence…

Allen found himself gazing at Altaïr, and he found kind eyes under the hood watching him.

The young man sighed, an exaggerated one, and muttered, “Yes, Mentor.”

Rauf couldn't contain the smile, though he smoothed it away fast, a little sheepish under the deadpan look Altaïr sent him. He noticed, however, something strained in the man's traits, or maybe, distracted.

Allen seemed to notice too, brows furrowing slightly as he noticed the way Altaïr's eyes flickered to the fortress for a brief moment, his look almost… worried.

The young man exchanged a look with Rauf, who called out to resume training. It made Altaïr focused back on him, then on Allen when he sensed the young man looking at him.

“Is something wrong?” Allen asked softly, silver eyes flickering toward the entrance of the building.

Altaïr followed his gaze, and felt his look darken at the sight of Abbas. The man startled, sensing he had been noticed, and was quick to enter. Altaïr stared for a few more beats, then sighed, gazing at Allen and Rauf both.

“I don't believe Abbas will cause trouble again so soon, but be careful.” He paused, then in a quieter voice, he added, “Malik… seemed to feel off earlier.”

Rauf frowned, knowing from how Altaïr's tone that it was something more than today's events. That something worried Altaïr deeply.

However, both men noticed the way Allen nipped his bottom lip, frowning, slightly uncertain. “I… He mentioned...” His eyes flickered up to Altaïr, and it made the man feel like a stone dropped in his stomach. However, Allen's gaze softened, and it was as if said stone was being removed slowly. “Mistakes and consequences, though he never explained to me in details. He might… be remembering.”

Altaïr's gaze dropped to his feet, scowling, lips pursued and traits tense. “That… would explain his words.” He muttered, swallowing.

A hand touched his, Altaïr looked up, and Allen was looking at him with a soft smile. “We'll just keep an eye on him, yes?”

Rauf didn't know what he wanted to do more: huffs with fond exasperation, or smile with fond admiration. _Says the one who needs us just as much_.

Judging by Altaïr's long, blank stare, the man felt the same.

Only Allen, though. And Rauf repeated the sentiment when he watched, almost awed, as a small, genuine smile showed on Altaïr's face, gentler and fonder that he had ever thought he would see on the Master Assassin. Or, in truth, that he ever thought the man could in fact produce.

“We will.” Altaïr agreed, then, in a manner almost innocent, that Rauf knew had to be imitated from Allen, the man added, “You could stay with him, in fact.”

Rauf turned his head so his snort wouldn't carry too much as Allen levelled a deadpan look at Altaïr that actually made the man squirm very soon. _Mentor, really? I don't think using his own techniques will wor_ _k. Nice try though._

“I will, but my body is too restless right now. If he isn't well, I'd rather have gotten the excess energy out of my system first.”

And wow, okay, Rauf didn’t need to see the way such a simple sentence turned into something else when Allen showed that sweet little smile. He feared the next few words, and he could see Altaïr did, too.

For good measure, because Allen finished with a low, “Or did you want to help?”

Altaïr's hand twitched, self-control stopping him from face-palming, but not from swallowing hard.

How did Allen switch back to a very bright, very innocent grin, was a mystery Rauf didn't event want to understand.

He did startle, however, when said grin was directed at him. “It seems I'll be in your hands!”

Rauf smiled down at Allen, which was genuine, but there was a lot of pretending not to notice the slight glower from Altaïr. _You're the one who suggested this!_

And Allah, he needed to rethink a bit what he knew of Allen so far, if the young man was able to make words sound like **that** so easily. _A little imp with the face of an angel, aren't you?_

* * *

 

Rauf stared at the knife embed into the heart of the target, aware of Altaïr's eyes on them for a moment, and a few whispers. But for once Rauf let the trainees be, because wow, he hadn't expected Allen to nail knife throwing, pun not intended, like this.

When he finally looked at the young man again, Allen was smiling with innocence, blinking and tilting his head.

“… You didn't tell me you had experience with knives.” _Is this revenge from snatching him away for a calmer training?_

Allen shrugged. “You didn't ask. And I never actually threw knives, but I'm used to needing coordination and precision.” He smiled sweetly, and oh yes, he had indeed meant to see Rauf's expression.

So of course, Rauf felt a smile form. “Well, it seems you have enough of those skills to pick up well knife throwing.” He turned thoughtful for a brief moment, then added, “I think I can still teach you different ways of throwing, though.”

Allen's eyes sparked with interest, and it made something in Rauf soften. “I'd like that yes, please!”

So Rauf took his place beside Allen, showing him how to throw, and felt a little proud of how well Allen could learn by watching. However, Rauf had not forgotten his other intent, and so in between advices and moments of concentration, he started a conversation.

“I'm glad to see you looking well.” A pause. “Or well enough.”

Allen kept his eyes on the target, but Rauf noticed the brief, small, almost shy smile. “Thank you, Rauf.” He threw the knife, then grinning at the result, he flickered his gaze on the man. “I know everyone would see the lie if I said I was fine, but I am okay. It honestly wasn't that bad.”

Rauf almost let his knife slip, and had to adjust his grip before he could throw. The knife embed itself a bit harder, and he pretended not to see the way Allen blinked before throwing a knowing look at the man, and then looking back to the targets, a very faint blush on his cheeks.

_Yes young man, realize you just admitted that what Altaïr, Malik and Hakim saw really wasn't the worst it can be._

“… I see. Well, I'm still glad.” Rauf offered a smile, after all, he didn't want to make Allen uncomfortable. Thankfully, the smile was returned, and they took a few moments to focus on the knife throwing. Then, Rauf spoke again, in a quiet voice, “If I may… I really hope you don't hide it from me, if you need help.”

This time, it was Allen who needed to adjust again his grip. He threw a startled look at Rauf, and oh, his heart squeezed, _what have you lived through, that even now, you still feel surprised by the offer of help?_

Allen's smile was tentative, shy. “I… I'll try.” He lowered his gaze, his smile a bit wry. “You might need to learn to look for the signs, as I'm not sure…” He sighed. “The unfortunate effect of trying to stay in control is that either it's small and I need to keep acting as I've been doing, or it's too much and I can only focus on staying myself.”

“Then I can learn. You should properly speak about those signs with Altaïr and Malik, too.” The look he got, this time, was maybe startled, but a little hopeful, a little vulnerable. It hurt and warmed Rauf both. He offered a smile, which made Allen's own bloom. “You have allies here. Friends. You can trust them about your safety. You know who we are, we can take care of ourselves. So you don't need to carry it all alone.”

Allen widened his eyes a bit, his throat worked to swallow as he looked forward. Rauf pretended he didn't see the way the young man blinked and blinked again, taking in a breath. Allen smiled, a little thing at the corner of his lips, and inclined his head.

“I'll remember this… Thank you.”

_To be continued..._


End file.
